


Breathe

by runawaygypsy



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Depression, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Panic Attacks, Romance, actor!tom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-02-26 02:38:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 40,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2634953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runawaygypsy/pseuds/runawaygypsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An accident leads Meg to meet a man who can help her heal from her past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She met him on a Monday. It was one of those days where the clouds hung in the sky like a sponge long forgotten in the shower, cold, mildewy, heavy with dampness that was just threatening to unleash a torrent, but had yet to. It was a meeting of kismet, an accident that was meant to be. She'd been walking along the city sidewalk juggling an armload of books, notebooks, photographs and a hot cup of tea steaming from a to-go mug when he brushed into her, paying more attention to the architecture above his head than to the petite woman in his path. His elbow, it was only his elbow, that caught the edge of the stack of books, but that was their tipping point. In an instant, her armload was on the sidewalk, spilled willy nilly at her feet. To be fair, she, herself, had been equally distracted by the items in the shop window she had been passing and had failed to realize she had navigated into his path. When the crash came and her world had tumbled, she was on her knees, working hastily to gather her belongings before passers-by stepped on them and ruined them. 

“I am so, so sorry,” he said as he dropped to his knees as well, reaching to grab what was beyond her grasp. “That was entirely my fault, I wasn't watching where I was going.”

She glanced up at him in frustration, unprepared to see the man before her. He was dressed in tight jeans, a white t-shirt and a black sweater that looked well-worn and comfortably so. His eyes were the color of stormy seas, gray-blue, concerned, his hair close cropped, slightly curly on top, his face a study in angles, perfectly chiseled jaw, and his smile, bright, sincere, suddenly made everything alright. “I'm fine,” she answered quietly, “I'm afraid I wasn't watching where I was going , either.” She smiled back weakly.

He helped her to her feet, holding onto her things as she righted herself. In a glance, he saw the page of her notebook that had flipped open and he read it, aware immediately that it was entirely personal. “You write beautifully,” he said as he handed it back.

Her look said she felt violated, but was too polite to tell this stranger, this man who obviously wanted only to help her, so. “Thanks,” she answered, eyes shying away from him. She took the stack of books from him and began to turn away. It wasn't that she wanted to seem ungrateful, but he gave her butterflies, more fiercely than anyone she had ever met. “I'm sorry, I've got to go.”

“At least let me buy you a new tea,” he said, catching her elbow. Stepping in front of her once again, his eyes riveting upon her. “Please?” It was less a question, more of a statement. “You're not in too much of a hurry for that, are you?”

She shook her head. “Well, no, not really.” She looked up at him, getting a feel for just how tall he was compared to her own petite frame. 

His arm was immediately around her shoulders, beckoning her to the nearest coffee shop, which happened to be two blocks from where they intersected. “I hope I'm not intruding too much, but are you on your way to a meeting?” He motioned to her stack of books.

“No,” she replied, “I'm a writer. This is my research.” She hoisted the heft of the book up against her, making it her shield as they walked. “I was actually headed towards the waterfront to get some inspiration.”

He grinned at her and the butterflies in her went crazy, spinning in circles, nearly making her dizzy. Once upon a time, she would not have been so guarded with a man like this. He seemed so open, so happy, so caring, even though they had only just met. That was before her last relationship. Now she was damaged, her self-esteem bruised beyond recognition, her soul cracked, her heart broken, and she doubted it would ever be repaired. 

“That's fascinating,” he said. “What are you working on?” He seemed sincerely interested in her and she felt sorry for him. He didn't know she was inherently broken and that all his effort would be for naught. 

She sighed. “It's poetry mostly, though I've written some short stories. Eventually, I may try to write a novel.” She was careful not to divulge too many details, but she knew he had seen her poetry already. Her broken soul carved on a page in words and imagery. And he had said it was beautiful. Little did he know.

“Would you mind if I read more?” It was a question she had been dreading.

Shaking her head, she flinched and held her bundle closer. “I'd prefer not. It's very personal.”

“I understand,” he whispered, leaning his head down, face close enough to her cheek that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin and it gave her goosebumps.

They finished their journey in silence and when they reached the coffee shop, he opened the door for her. 

“What'll you have?” he asked, motioning to the reader board over the counter.

“Hot tea, Earl Gray,” she answered as she sat down at one of the little cafe tables that was empty. “Large.”

“Sounds perfect,” he smiled. He turned away from her to order from the girl at the counter that was obviously smitten with him, judging from the way she blushed and flustered over repeating his order. When he returned with their order, she saw that he had also added on a couple of chocolate-dipped biscotti. “I hope you don't mind,” he said as he sat down. “I've always liked a bit of something like this with my tea.” She shook her head and reached across to grab her cup and one of the biscotti. “Excuse me, I need a bit of milk in my tea.” He stood up and took his cup to the bar on the side, opened up his cup and poured in a bit of half and half from the decanter, stirred it with a wooden stir stick that he discarded in the trash bin as he walked back to the table. “How is it?” he asked when he returned.

“It's good,” she smiled, dipping her biscotti into her tea to soften it. “I would never have thought chocolate and Earl Gray would have been a good combination.”

With a broad grin, he dipped his own biscotti and took a bite, washing it down with a sip of his tea. “Mmmmm, yes,” he said finally, “Wonderful.”

She watched him with interest. This man was unlike any she had ever met before. He seemed so comfortable, so sure of himself, so pleased with something as simple as a biscotti and tea. “My name is Meg,” she introduced, holding her hand across the table at him. “Since we haven't been properly introduced.”

He swallowed his bite of biscotti and grasped her hand, giving the back of it a light kiss instead of shaking it as she had expected. “Tom,” he answered. 

His kiss made her shudder and she retracted her hand from him like she had been burned. “Nice to meet you, Tom,” she managed to say shakily. “You know more about me than I do about you. What do you do for a living?”

He chuckled. “I'm an actor,” he answered. “I'm actually in town preparing for a role.”

“Care to tell me what kind of role?” she asked, feeling a sudden surge of bravery.

“Now, that I'm not at liberty to say.” He was still smiling and it was disarming her. “But it does have a lot to do with your beautiful city.”

Meg was stumped. “What could you possibly be doing that would involve Seattle?” she wondered aloud. 

He held up his hands in mock-surrender. “I'm bound by contract,” he grimaced, “But I could use a guide, if you're interested. I would guess you know the area fairly well.”

She wanted to turn him down, be done with it, move on along with her pitiful life. But her heart spoke first. “I do, and I'd be happy to.” The moment the words fell from her lips, she wanted to shove them back in and swallow them. She clamped her lips closed and bit her lower lip.

“Is today too soon to begin?” he asked. “I mean, I know you were going to write and I don't want to impose.”

“It's ok,” she said, her voice weakened, no more than a whisper to her own ears. “I can go any time, unless you just want to tag along? It might be a bit boring.”

“I'd be happy to accompany you,” he smiled. 

They finished their tea and biscotti and stood from the table, she gathering her books once again, he wrapping his arm around her shoulders once again, ushering her back out the door. “Follow me,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to wriggle her way away from him. “Its only a few blocks.”

He seemed to get the hint as she shrugged him off and retracted his arms, sliding his hands into his pockets and walking half a pace behind her as they navigated the crowded sidewalks. Surprisingly, even though she had shorter legs than he, she kept a good pace and he was challenged to keep up with her. “You know,” he commented as they stopped for a light at an intersection. “We could walk a bit slower and you could tell me about some of these wonderful old buildings.” His eyes shot up to the architecture as if to make a point. “I mean, if you know about them.”

“I know some,” she answered, falling back beside him. “Not many that I know the whole history of, just some that I've researched.” Pointing straight ahead, she said, “If we go this way, through the Market, there's more that I know.”

“Alright, lead the way,” he replied, offering his arm as the crosswalk light turned green.

She had second thoughts, but she took his arm anyway, half-pulling him across the road and down the sidewalk. They stopped in front of a large red brick building with a gray archway at the front. “This one I know about,” she announced. “This was Butterworth and Sons Mortuary.” When she glanced up at him he shrugged. “Famously haunted?” Another shrug. “I guess you're not much for paranormal history are you?”

“Not really,” he shook his head. “That stuff tends to make it hard for me to sleep.”

“Well,” she took a deep breath, “This was also where they handled Bruce Lee's body after his death.”

A spark of recognition flashed in his eyes. “Oh, really?”

“You can tell because of the tiles on the front,” she pointed to one door, in front of which the blue and white tile had been laid to spell “Chapel.” “It's an Irish pub, now.” She moved to the doors in the center of the building. “I've always loved this door handle.”

Tom leaned down and inspected the handles, two ornately made fish. “Those are beautiful,” he observed, his fingers running along the smoothness at the Koi's back. Standing up, once again, he smiled, “Fascinating.” 

“Come on,” she said, stepping ahead of him. “There's more to see in the Market.” 

He followed her as she lead the way to a cobblestoned street intersection, then right at the corner. “What's this place?” he asked as they passed a storefront laden with posters and stacks of books, newspapers and magazines.

“Anarchist bookstore,” she quipped. “Would you like to go inside?”

He shrugged. “Maybe another day.” 

Meg reached back and grasped his hand. “It's a bit crowded in there,” she nodded to the inner part of the market that was bustling, swirling like a river of people. “I'd hate to lose you.” She tried to hide the shiver that his touch incited, sure that he could feel the electricity that sparked between them, hoping he would ignore it as she did. She pulled him through the crowd, past the fish mongers, who were presently not throwing fish as they were known to do, into the inner bowels of the market. “Watch your head,” she instructed as they reached a low beam.

He ducked his head. “This place is amazing,” he said, his eyes drawing in the sights of the various shops, feeling the history of the place. “I'd love to look around more, if we can. Maybe you can show me some of your favorite shops?”

“We've already passed most of them,” she sighed. “I prefer the eclectic ones.”

They made their way down to another street, crossed it and emerged at the top of an enormous staircase. “Welcome to the Market steps,” she nodded. Meg let go of his hand and descended down the steps quickly, her feet hitting each one, yet barely touching them as she flew down. Tom, on the other hand, kept up with her pace by skipping steps, his long legs playing to his advantage. 

He reached the bottom first and stood there grinning. “What took you so long, slowpoke?” he jibed as she finally caught up with him. 

“Very funny,” she held one of her legs out towards him. “See this? I have short legs.”

He pulled her into an embrace so suddenly, she was caught unguarded. “I'm sorry,” he said, his voice rumbling in his chest against her ear. “I was just kidding.” 

It felt strangely comfortable in his arms, and she was filled with a warmth. She was also filled with a panic. Her heart fluttered against her chest, making her lungs struggle for air as she began to gasp. Her face felt flushed and she tried to pull away.

Tom looked down at her and opened his arms. “Are you alright?” he asked as she stepped away from him, her hand on his arm for support. She shook her head and he could see the terror in her eyes. His hands flew up and he grasped her face leaning down so she was focused on him and only him. “Just breathe,” he said calmly. “I need you to focus on my eyes and breathe.” He held her there, making her watch him, his eyes drawing her in, calming her like no one else had ever been able to do, until her breath slowed to a steady pace.

“Panic attack,” she said weakly. “I wasn't expecting that hug.”

A moment of realization flashed across his face. “I am so sorry,” he said, his eyebrows creasing to a worried furrow. “I didn't mean...”

She shook her head free of his grasp. “No, it's okay.” She was certain he would let her alone now, now that he had seen how damaged she was, how broken. “I understand if you want to go.” Inside, she was sure he would leave, though a part of her hoped he wouldn't.

“But, I don't,” he answered quietly. “I completely understand.”


	2. Chapter 2

She walked out on the pier, wind sweeping her hair from her face, the cold bringing a bit of pink to her cheeks. With a deep breath, she inhaled the sea air, filling her lungs with it, absorbing it into her soul. There were still heavy clouds on the horizon, making their presence known over the Olympics, dipping down over West Seattle, but she wasn't concerned with getting wet. Her agenda was only to seek out the bench that was furthest from the street and the hustle of the late fall tourists and write observations in her notebook.

Tom followed behind her, stepping gingerly around the seagulls that bobbed towards them and watched as she strode, her eyes closed, head tipped back, nose in the air, becoming one with her surroundings. He sat down silently on the bench next to her, sending an occasional glance at her as she wrote, watching the curls of her handwriting as it flowed across the page in a pirouette of loops and swoops punctuated by the occasional straight line or a dot. Mostly, he gazed out at the Sound, taking in its gray blue hues, watching the eddy from the ferries as they criscrossed his plane of view. Inwardly, he mused how beautiful it was, how much it reminded him of his beloved London, yet how thoroughly different it was, this city. 

They sat there for what seemed like hours, not a word spoken between them until Tom stood up to stretch his legs. He went to the edge of the pier, placed his hands along the top of the fence that lined the boundaries of it, and leaned forward, casting his eyes into the depths below. He could see nothing in the murk, save for the shadow of an occasional fish or other sea creature. For all he knew, it was litter, he couldn't tell. It was beginning to get darker, the clouds turning rosy pink in the distance. “Should we get going?” he asked, turning around to face her.

Meg looked up at him, her face blank, her eyes devoid of recognition for a moment. She blinked, glancing sidelong at the sunset and answered, “I suppose we should.” She stood up, leaving her books on the bench, and joined Tom. “Listen,” she said quietly, “I wanted to thank you for not freaking out on me earlier.”

“It was no problem,” he answered. “I understand. I've had experiences with panic attacks before.”

She let out a huge sigh. “Good... I mean, not good, but...” she said with a sheepish smile, “I'm just glad you understand.”

He wanted to gather her up in his arms again right there, but he was afraid to. He didn't want to set off another attack, so, instead, he asked, “Would you like to catch some dinner and talk about it?”

“Sure,” she answered. “I know of a great place!”

“Lead me on,” he grinned, grasping the hand she offered and followed as she picked up her stack of books and led him back onto the busy sidewalk. “What did you have in mind?” he asked as they maneuvered what was left of the tourist crowd and headed right past the storefronts. 

“Fish and chips,” she replied, “I hope you don't mind.”

“Mmmmm, I love a good fish and chips.” He looked briefly in the store windows as they walked, amused at the variety of tourist knickknacks and pirate swag. “What's this?” he asked as they began to pass a store called “Ye Olde Curiosity Shoppe.”

Meg stopped and turned around. “I suppose I ought to introduce you to Sylvester and Sylvia.”

“Who?” his eyebrow raised in suspicion. He was hoping that she wasn't going to start introducing him to her friends, not that he would have minded much, but he wanted his presence to be more low-key. He remained that way as she pulled him through a small crowd gathered at the entrance into a shop unlike any he had ever seen. There was a proliferation of the usual Seattle keepsakes, but all over the walls, the ceiling, in glass display cases, was a collection of all matter of oddities, from a Fiji Mermaid to conjoined cows pickled in a bottle, to odd insects, to even a whale bone.

“Meet Sylvester and Sylvia,” Meg said as she stopped in the very back.

Tom looked back down and there, in front of them, stood two mummies standing upright in glass cases. He let out a deep breath. “Oh, mummies.”

She giggled, “What did you think I was going to show you?”

“I don't know, but I didn't expect this place,” he answered. “This is some store.” 

“I thought you'd enjoy it.” She picked up a postcard that was in a rack mounted on the wall right next to Sylvester that had both of the mummies on it. “I'll get this little keepsake for you,” she said with a grin.

“Aw, how thoughtful of you,” he smiled as he followed her back to the register in the front of the store.

After purchasing the postcard, they exited the shop and continued another two blocks down to a walk-up restaurant with a sign outside that said, “Ivars.” “I thought we'd eat inside,” Tom said, shivering slightly since the temperature had fallen with the sun.

“We can,” Meg answered as she went to a door next to the walk-up and opened it. “Voila!”

They went inside and Tom asked to be seated closest to the window looking out on the water. “It really is beautiful here,” he commented as he pulled her chair out for her to sit down.

“Thank you,” she said as she pulled herself towards the table. “Yes, it is. I don't know if I could live anywhere else.” She had a dreamy look in her eyes as she looked out the window. 

Her hand was rested on the table and he put his over it. “I can see why.”

There was a slight shock, a spark as her eyes flicked up to his, a near flash of panic and he withdrew as soon as he saw it begin. A sad pall cast over her. “I'm sorry, she sighed, “I just get a little tense when I get touched. It's not you.”

He was about to ask her why when their waiter approached. “What can I get you folks this evening?”

“I'll have the Salmon and chips,” Tom answered, “And she'll have?” He stumbled as he realized he had forgotten to ask what she wanted.

Meg looked up at the waiter. “Cod and chips, cajun style, with a cup of white clam chowder on the side.”

Their waiter nodded and walked away. “Is the chowder here good?” Tom asked.

“It's phenomenal,” she answered. “Best I've ever had.”

“Hmmm.” He furrowed his brows and sucked in his lower lip. “Perhaps I should have ordered some for myself.”

“You can always flag the waiter down and order it,” she suggested. “I'm sure he'd be happy to add it.”

Tom nodded just as their waiter stopped by again with fresh flatware and glasses of ice water. “May I please add a cup of clam chowder to my order as well, sir?” he asked.

“White or red?” The waiter pulled his paper and pen from his pocket.

“White please?” Tom said, looking at Meg for confirmation as she nodded. “Yes, white.”

“Certainly.” He scribbled on his pad and left them alone once again.

Meg was looking down at her fingers as they drummed the table, the noise a rhythmic backbone to the awkward silence that had grown between them. Her eyes drew across the table and then up to Tom, who was studying her intently. “What?” she asked, sounding slightly annoyed that he was watching her. 

“I hate to be too intrusive,” he began, “But I was wondering what happened to you to make you have those panic attacks.” 

She sighed. She had been waiting for it and now, here it was. “My last relationship,” she replied. “Was incredibly abusive. The only time he touched me was to hit me. I ended up with a broken arm, several broken ribs and a concussion the last time I saw him.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes as though all those old injuries had just re-emerged. “My therapist says I am doing better.”

When she opened her eyes, he was still watching her, his blue eyes clouded with concern. “I'm so sorry,” he said, his deep voice barely a whisper. “I... I...” He was at a loss for words.

Meg shook her head. “It's in the past,” she groaned, leaning her head back and looking up at the ceiling. “It's just that when I get touched in a certain way, I feel that familiar vice around my insides and I can't breathe and before I know it, the world is spinning and I feel like I am drowning.” She put her chin down and glanced back at Tom. “My body and mind still remember, even though my heart tells them otherwise.”

“What help has your therapist been?” He seemed truly interested, which was different from most people's reactions. Usually, she was told to just, “get over it.”

“She's great,” she answered. “She has me do exercises to regulate my breathing and has engaged me in immersive therapy with a group of likewise damaged individuals. Once a week, we meet in her office and cuddle.”

Tom nodded. “Is it helping?”

“I'd like to believe so,” she said. “Three months ago, had you put your arm around my shoulders like you did when we went to the coffee shop, I would have gone full-on panic mode and curled into a fetal position right there on the sidewalk.”

“I'd call that progress,” he smiled encouragingly. “Should I ask you before I touch you?”

“That would probably be best,” she replied. “If I have warning, I can brace myself.”

He leaned his forehead on his hand. “You make it sound like it's something awful, like human touch is a disease of some sort that you need inoculating against.”

“In essence, it is.” She crossed her arms in front of her. 

The waiter reappeared with their food, placing it on the table in front of them. “Here we are,” he said, his voice chipper as he made sure they had everything they wanted. “Anything else?”

“I think we're good,” Tom nodded. He picked up his fork and cut off a piece of salmon, putting it into his mouth with a satisfied hum. “This is delicious!”

“Wait until you try the chowder,” Meg said as she dug into her food.

When he was done with his bite, he scooped a mouthful of the chowder into his mouth, a little of it spilling down his chin. “Oh, that is delicious!” he exclaimed. 

“Right?” she smiled. “Best clam chowder ever.”

They finished the rest of their meal in relative silence, their mouths otherwise occupied with their food. When they were done, Tom sat back against his seat and rubbed his stomach. “I'm absolutely stuffed,” he groaned, obviously happy with his meal.

“Now, you've had dinner at a Seattle institution,” Meg smiled. “You're welcome.”

“Thank you,” he grinned. He looked at his watch and then out the window. “I do believe it's getting a bit late and a bit dark for you to show me anything more tonight. Can I take you home?”

“I'm a ways away,” she answered, turning her glance to the lights that twinkled across the sound. “I could just help you find your hotel and then go home myself. It's on my way. Besides, I've got to take the bus.”

He leaned closer to her. “How about I get a taxi?” he asked somberly. “I would hate to see you out alone on a night like this.”

Meg scoffed. “I live here. There's been hundreds of nights like this I've been out alone. I'll be fine.”

“Well, consider it as payment for showing me around today, then.” He attempted to reach across the table and take her hand, but considering it again, feigned grabbing a napkin and pulled it back.

With a shrug, she said, “Sure.”

Tom paid their check, then they stepped outside into the cool night. He hailed a taxi just as the first raindrops began to fall, thick and hard against the windshield. “See, just in time,” he quipped as they settled in to their seats in the back.

Meg told the driver her address, then pulled out her cell phone. “I should let my roommate know I'm on my way home,” she said as she flipped it on.

“May I?” Tom asked, gingerly grasping the device and pulling it from her hand as she nodded. “I'm going to give you my number. You call me when you are ready to show me more. I'm in town for two weeks.” He punched his number and saved it into her phone book.

She saw he had saved it under the name “Crash.” She raised her eyebrow at him. “Crash?”

He laughed. “It's in reference to how we met.”

She shook her head. “Oh, that's bad.”

“Really? I thought it quite clever, myself,” he winked. “You can change it to my real name, if you'd like.”

“No, that's alright,” she answered. “Would you like my number?”

He shook his head. “You call me when you're ready. I don't want to push you into anything you're not ready for yet.”

She began to protest, wanting to argue that playing tour guide was not anything that would push her boundaries or make her have an attack, but then she saw the look in his eyes, the caring, the tenderness, and she stopped herself. She realized he had been not only looking for someone to show him around, he had looking for a companion, someone to make his days seem a little less lonely while he was in the city. “What exactly do you want from me?” she asked, her voice sounding strangely strained. “I mean, you're an actor, right? Couldn't you be with pretty much anyone you would like?”

Tom was the elusive one, now. “Not really,” he answered softly, his eyelids fluttering like he was waiting for her to smack him. When it didn't come to that, he continued. “I have a lot of colleagues, but I feel a special connection to you. You are the most human person I have met in a long time. I'd like to get to know you.”

“As a friend?” Her heart was beating quickly, and normally, it would trigger another attack, but, this time, she reached out and grasped his hand and her heart slowed down, her breathing began to regulate itself. She didn't even realize what she was doing until she felt the warmth of his skin and looked down.

“Yes,” he answered. “As a friend.”

The taxi stopped outside a brick building in Greenwood, it was tall, angular, no distinguishing characteristics. “This is me,” Meg said.

“It's nice,” Tom said, looking out of his window up at the top of the structure.

“It's not,” she smiled, “But thank you.”

As she grasped the door handle to exit the car, Tom stopped her. “Meg, wait,” he said suddenly.

“What, Tom?” she answered looking back at him.

“Can I give you a goodnight hug?” He had his arms wide, just waiting for her.

Meg nodded. “Since you asked, yes.” She leaned back into his arms and felt him close them around her. The bile began to rise in her throat, but she took a deep breath and relaxed into him and it went down. 

He brushed a soft kiss across her cheekbone. “Thank you for a wonderful evening,” he whispered against her ear.

“Thank you for dinner,” she replied before moving away from him and exiting the car.

She waved at Tom as the taxi drove away and realized that, not only had that been the first human touch she'd had in years that hadn't been a part of her therapy, but that she felt at home in his arms. He'd been the one person she'd needed to break the cycle she had been trapped in.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is so fluffy...

Meg stayed in bed the next day, contemplating things, writing in her notebooks and browsing social media. She really didn't feel like being around people. A few times, she'd thought about turning on her phone and calling him, curious about the effect he'd had on her. Instead, she called her therapist.

When Dr. Cramer answered, she rehashed the events of the previous day. “I can't explain it,” she finished with, “But all this therapy never prepared me for this.”

“Perhaps your heart is telling you it's time,” Dr. Cramer answered. “You know what kind of person you were before everything that happened with Jason.”

The mere thought of the man's name sent a shudder down her spine. “Please don't mention his name.”

Dr. Cramer let out a sigh. “You know, Meg, if you can't deal with just hearing Jason's name, perhaps you aren't as far along as we thought.”

“You're right.” Meg began picking at a piece of folded over paper in her lap. “I don't know why this guy is different,” she mused. “He caught me when I had an attack coming on and he stopped it. No one has ever been able to do that. Not my mom, not my sister, not even you.”

“Well, these panic attacks are psychosomatic,” Dr. Cramer explained. “You are having them because your mind has not quite come to terms with your abuse. Think of it as a defense mechanism. Like I said before, maybe you are just ready for this to happen, now.”

With a deep breath, she resigned herself to what Dr. Cramer was telling her. “Maybe, but do you really think I'm ready? I'm not even sure I can trust myself.”

“Meg,” the doctor answered, “We've been through all this. Who can you trust?”

“Well, you, my mom, Katie, my best friend.” She paused. “I don't know what you're getting at.”

“Would you feel safer with one of them?” The doctor asked. “Maybe see if one of them would come along just in case next time you meet with him?”

Meg scoffed. “Who said there would be a next time?”

Dr. Cramer sighed. “How can you build your circle of trust if you give up on someone that has given you no reason to distrust him this easily?”

“I know,” Meg groaned. “I know. I need to learn to trust new people. But just the thought of it scares the hell out of me and, some days, even someone looking at me on the street can send me into an attack. My min just starts spinning and I see all the possible scenarios in my head where I end up maimed or dead.” Her breath had picked up speed and she was nearly gasping into the phone.

“Meg, you need to calm yourself,” Dr. Cramer commanded, her voice even and low. “What did we talk about during our last appointment?”

“To let the negative go,” Meg managed to squeak out. “But what if I do that one day and ignore my instincts and end up with another Jason?”

“And what if you never staunch that flight impulse and miss meeting the love of your life?” Dr. Cramer was trying to out-rationalize her now. “Or you don't ever regain the ability to function like a normal human being. You know, there are many people who have progressed from this sort of a disorder that they end up complete recluses. I've seen it happen before. They shut themselves out of their own lives, lose everything and everyone near and dear to themselves. There is rehabilitation, but they are never the same and their path is a million times more difficult to go back to than yours.”

Meg stayed silent for a few seconds. “I don't want to be like that, but I don't think I'll ever be the same, either.” Her breath had slowed, but she began to choke back tears. “Jason saw to that.”

“Do you need another session?” Dr. Cramer asked tenderly. “I have time open today if you need it.”

Tearfully, Meg answered, “No, I think I'll be alright. I just feel like there is this dark cloud over me and I'm just ready to come out of it.”

“That's the Meg I was hoping to hear.” Dr. Cramer shuffled a paper that made a noise into the phone. “How do you think you can come out from under that cloud when you so willingly run back into it after a little sunshine?”

“What do you mean?” Meg asked, confused.

“Well, when you first began telling me about this man you met, you sounded the happiest, most excited I've ever heard you since we began your therapy.” 

“I did?” Meg hadn't been paying attention to her own words, just to getting them out, pushing out the emotion that gushed with them.

Dr. Cramer chuckled. “You need to listen to yourself. You are the first one you need to trust. I know we've been working on these attacks and pushing the bad thoughts out, but you need to learn to trust the good ones. The only way you will be able to identify the feelings that are gut instinct versus lack of trust and fatalistic is to learn to identify them. You are afraid of your own happiness.”

Meg's cell phone rang through with her sister's number. “Dr. Cramer, my sister is calling me, I've got to go,” she said quickly before switching the line over. To her sister, she greeted, “Hey, sis.”

“Are you busy?” Katie asked cheerfully. “I have some movie tickets that someone at work just gave me and I thought you'd like to go. I mean, if you're not busy.”

“When?” Meg asked. She didn't feel like going out, yet, but she knew that her sister was doing her best to help her get back to living her life. Katie often came up with ruses like this just to get her to go out. 

Katie's voice picked up speed in her excitement. “That's great! I was hoping you'd say you would go. They're for the SIFF at eight.”

“What movie?” Meg smiled to herself, catching a bit of Katie's enthusiasm.

There was a moment of silence and then Katie came back on the line. “It's some indie film. I've never heard of it, so I'm sure you haven't, either.” 

The truth stung. Meg had been so closed off both during her relationship with Josh and her consequent recovery that she rarely paid any attention to what was happening in the world around her, with the exception of the observations she wrote down, and those were only from a distance. “I hope it's good. I'll meet you there at seven thirty,” she managed to answer. “Bye, Kat.”

Meg laid down on her bed and stared at the ceiling, letting the thoughts whirl around her. There was no getting around it. She needed to take the next step to her own recovery and it was a step she dreaded. There was just something frightening about letting someone new into her world, even though he had all but forced himself into it, any way. But he had left the decision as to whether they would have any kind of relationship in her hands. And that was the part that scared her the most. She wasn't sure she could make a rational decision, about him, or about anyone for that matter. 

Glancing at the clock on the wall, she realized it was already six. Peeling herself from the bed with a groan, she decided she needed to get ready and catch the bus if she was going to make it on time to meet Katie. Opening the closet door, she decided that casual was the best and pulled a hot pink fleece pullover out along with a lacy white tank top and a comfortable pair of jeans. After she had replaced her pajamas with the outfit she had picked out, she laced a pair of boots onto her feet, brushed her hair into a high pony tail and sprayed herself down with a spritz of Japanese Cherry Blossom body spray so she wouldn't smell like she hadn't showered that day. It took her ten minutes to get ready. She dawned her dark green peacoat, pulled a brown beanie over her head and put her wallet into the pocket before sliding her fingers into a pair of dirty white stretch gloves. As she turned out the light and exited her apartment, she took a deep breath. She was happy that Dani, her roommate and best friend, had needed to work all day. The isolation was what she had needed.

By the time the bus dropped her off in Queen Anne, it was raining. The wet left a sheen on the asphalt that reflected every light in the darkness. Meg was glad she had worn boots, even though it was only the normal Seattle fall rain. It was the kind of weather that drivers hated because, rather than raining properly with substantial raindrops, it was more of a really thick mist that fell from the sky. Windshield wipers did no good in it. And, because of this, there was traffic. A lot of it. She was actually glad that she relied on Metro because she didn't think that she could have withstood the amount of people that apparently forgot how to drive in the rain. It was a block to the theatre and she walked briskly, smiling to herself over the obvious tourists that held umbrellas like shields, not realizing that the reason no one in Seattle used an umbrella was because one brisk side wind would fold their umbrellas inside out and send them flying down the sidewalk.

When she reached the theatre, Katie was standing out front, grinning. “About time you got here,” she chided as Meg reached her. 

Meg pulled her phone from her pocket and pressed the button to view the time. She gave her sister a hug and answered, “Seven-thirty on the dot.” With a laugh, she followed it up with, “It's not my fault you are perpetually early.”

She followed Katie through the double doors into the lobby. It was small, cramped, filled with posters of movies that had played there and were coming soon, with a coffee bar in the front and an antiquated concession stand in the back. “Would you like anything?” Katie asked as they got in line for concessions.

“I haven't had any dinner, so any food you're offering is good with me,” Meg replied. She realized that she really hadn't had a proper meal the whole day, she had snacked, but had eaten nothing substantial. “Scratch that,” she grinned, “A slice of pizza, some popcorn and a soda sound wonderful.” 

“You got it, sis,” Katie said. When they got to the counter, she ordered and paid. She took the popcorn and the pizza, piling it onto her arms and let Meg deal with the tickets and the soda. “Let's go get seated,” she said as she led the way towards the ticket taker.

As Meg followed, cups threatening to slosh out of their lids onto her jacket, someone backed into her, expediting the process. “Hey!” she shrieked and her free hand flew out just in time to keep her from losing her drinks as well as her footing.

“That was totally my fault,” a voice said as she closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. “I'm so sorry.” It was a familiar voice. Her eyelids flew open just in time to see the spark of recognition in his eyes. “Meg...” he stumbled, his mouth gaping open. “Are you alright?”

She sucked her lips in and opened her mouth with a smack. “Hi, Tom,” she answered, “I'm fine.” She straightened herself from against the wall. 

He smiled. “We really should stop meeting like this, you know.” He reached out to put his hand on her shoulder, but rested it on the wall instead. “I had no idea you'd be here, really.”

“I came with my sister,” she shrugged. “Are you here with anyone?”

“No,” he replied. “I'm just a movie fan. This one has had some good hype and I thought, since I'm in town, I should check it out.”

“Meg!” Katie called from the auditorium door. “Get in here!”

Leaning to look around Tom, Meg yelled back, “Be there in a minute!” She looked back at Tom. “You're welcome to sit with us, if you'd like.” She took a deep breath and held it, halfway hoping he would say no, letting it out when he said he would. “Ok, then, Katie's waiting.”

Tom stood to the side and let her pass, following her into the dimmed lights of the auditorium. Katie was sitting in the center about midway down to the screen. Meg stepped sideways, gingerly making her way past the folded up vacant seats in the row and then taking a seat next to her sister. Tom sat beside Meg.

As Meg handed Katie her drink, she introduced him. “Katie, this is Tom. Tom, this is my sister, Katie.”

The two of them leaned forward to see each other past her. Katie handed Meg her slice of pizza and held out her hand saying, “Nice to meet you,” before she actually looked up at him and her jaw dropped.

“Likewise,” he replied with a gentile smile before releasing her hand. 

When Katie sat back, she leaned over to Meg and giddily whispered, “Do you know who that is?” 

“Uh, yes, that is Tom,” Meg answered. “He's an actor. Do you know him?”

With an exasperated gasp, Katie replied, “I need to remember you've been living under a rock for the last few years. That is Tom Hiddleston. The man has an army of fangirls.”

“So, he's famous?” Meg raised her eyebrow at Katie. “If he's got an army of fangirls, where are they?”

Katie looked at her in disbelief. “Never mind,” she answered in frustration. “The movie is starting.”

Curious, Meg leaned over to Tom. “My sister says you have an army of fangirls.”

“Well, she's not wrong,” he shrugged. “I'd just like to keep my being here on the down low.”

“Don't worry,” she reassured him, “I'll keep it a secret.” She surprised herself and Tom by placing her hand over his on the armrest and squeezing it.

Tom smiled at her. “I'm glad you're okay with this.”

The lights turned down and the movie began. Meg watched it intently, absorbing each and every nuance of the story and characters, not noticing that he had pulled his hand from beneath hers and had draped his arm behind her on the seat. During a particularly dramatic scene, her attention was drawn to him and she watched from the corner of her eyes as he emoted along with the actors in the movie, tears forming in his eyes and trailing down his cheek. She leaned into him. “Is everything alright?” she asked quietly.

He looked over at her. “Yeah, it's just...” his voice trailed off and he shrugged, his arm wrapping around her shoulders as he did it.

Meg didn't feel like escaping this time. There was no panic welling up, no lack of breath, no feeling like she needed to push him off. Instead, she was filled with a warmth that washed over her. She patted his knee. “I know,” she nodded, tears beginning to well in her own eyes. She leaned even closer and rested her head on his shoulder. 

Tom kissed the crown of her head softly and glanced at Katie, who was watching them in awe. She shot Tom a wide grin and gave him a thumbs-up, causing him to chuckle.

Meg sat up. “What?”

“I think I have your sister's approval,” he answered.

Looking over at Katie, Meg gave her a quizzical look, to which Katie smiled and shrugged before turning her own attention back to the movie.

“That's good,” Meg said, settling back against his shoulder. “My therapist would be happy.”

With a quiet chuckle, Tom said, “You told your therapist about me?”

She nodded. “Dr. Cramer said that I need to learn to trust people again and a good way would be to get the opinion of someone I already trust.”

“Wise lady.” He squeezed her shoulders again, bringing her as close to him as the armrest between them would allow.

When the movie was over, they exited the theatre to a downpour. “Are you alright getting home?” Tom asked. “You don't have an umbrella and it's pretty wet.”

Both Meg and Katie broke out in laughter. “You're definitely a tourist,” Katie snorted between giggles.

Meg shook her head and held her stomach. “Umbrellas don't do shit here.”

Tom couldn't help but laugh with them. “Well, I guess, when in Rome...”

“Would you like to go out for a drink, then?” Tom asked Meg when they had finished laughing. 

Katie interrupted the moment. “I've got work in the morning, so I'm going to leave the two of you to, well, whatever you're going to do.” She gave Meg a quick hug, saluted Tom and waved as she escaped onto the nearest bus. 

“Well, that was quick,” Meg quipped. She looked back at Tom. “I really want to,” she answered. “I'm just not sure... Um... I'm not sure I'm ready to take that step.”

“I understand,” he sighed. “At least let me get a cab and take you home again.”

Meg nodded. “Alright. It's not like we haven't already done that before.”

Tom called a cab and as they waited outside in the cold, Meg began to shiver. “Can I help keep you warm?” he asked.

“Okay,” she answered as he reached out to rub her arms. 

The taxi came and whisked them away, once again to the front of her building. “This is where I leave you, once again,” Tom said quietly as Meg undid her seat belt.

She noticed the sadness in his eyes, this time. “It's not forever,” she smiled. 

He grasped one of her gloved hands and kissed the back of it. “I'll be waiting,then,” he answered.

Meg surprised herself by leaning into him and brushing a soft kiss across his lips. “So will I,” she said before ducking out of the cab into the night.


	4. Chapter 4

Meg held her phone in her hand, contemplating calling him when Dani came in the room. “What's up?” she asked. “I've been working so hard, I feel like I haven't seen you in a week at least!” She plopped down on the sofa next to Meg and gave her a hug. It was Dani's day off and she was dressed comfortably in sweats and a t-shirt with her favorite band on it. 

“Not much,” Meg answered nervously. “I'm just taking it one day at a time.” She held the phone against her chest.

Dani grinned, her mouth lopsided like it did when she had hatched a particularly devious plan. “You seem a little bit more chipper than usual,” she observed. Trying to pull Meg's phone away, she asked, “What's going on with that?”

Closing her eyes, Meg answered, “Ummmm, nothing.” She tried to hold the phone away from Dani, but her friend was too quick and snatched it out of her hand with lightening speed, rushing to stand on the other side of the sofa.

“You wouldn't be hiding anything from your bestie now, would you?” she teased. “I mean, I tell you everything.” Dani pushed the button on the side of the phone and glanced at the screen. “Who's Crash?”

Meg could feel the heat from her blush as it crawled across her skin. “It's this guy,” she huffed. 

Dani smiled even harder. “You met a guy? Have you told your doc?”

Nodding, Meg answered, “Yes and yes.” She rolled her eyes and held out her hand. “Can I have my phone back again?” She desperately hoped that Dani was done with her interrogation because she had promised Tom she wouldn't out his location to anyone. And Dani was exactly the type of person he wouldn't want knowing.

“Alright,” Dani said, exasperated. “I suppose you can, but I want details. Now.” She handed the phone over and then sat back down on the sofa. “Where did you meet him, how did you meet him? What does he look like?”

With a shy giggle, Meg answered her questions. “He walked into me downtown, neither of us was paying attention, and then we went out for tea.” She hoped that would at least staunch some of Dani's questioning and, when it seemed like it had, she continued. “He's tall, handsome, very sweet.”

Dani let out a sigh of relief. “I was beginning to lose hope on you, sis. I'm proud of you.” She gave Meg another hug, this one harder than the last. “How are your panic attacks? Have you let him touch you yet?”

Meg nodded her head. “They're better.” She shivered. “I don't know how to explain it, but he seems to have an opposite effect on me. I started having an attack when he gave me a hug, but he was able to calm me before it was full-blown.” She let out a deep breath, not realizing she had been holding it in, hoping that she hadn't told Dani too much. 

“So, are you cured?” Dani's face had turned serious. “I mean, are you over the whole thing with Jason?”

“I'll never be over the thing with Jason,” Meg replied. “There will always be things that make me flinch, that scare the hell out of me, but Dr. Cramer says I need to learn to trust the good as well as the bad, so I can tell reality from fear. And this is good.” She held up the phone as though it were a trophy. 

Dani smiled at her again. “Well, I hope it stays that way for you. I really don't like seeing you hurting. You're so different from how you were before you met Jason and, I have to admit, I miss the old Meg.”

Meg nodded and sucked her lips in. “I miss the old Meg, too. I just want to live in a world where I am not afraid that everyone I don't already trust is going to hurt me, where I'm not going to go into hysterics because someone raises their hand or touches me in the wrong way. It's exhausting.” 

“Well, I'll leave you to call your mystery man,” Dani nodded as she stood up. “I'd like to meet him someday.”

“Maybe someday, you will,” Meg answered as Dani left the room. 

Taking a deep breath, Meg turned the phone back on and pressed the green “Call” button under the name “Crash.” 

It rang twice before he answered it with an elegant, “Hello, this is Tom.” 

“Hello, yourself, Crash,” Meg giggled.

“Oh, goodness, Meg!” She could sense the excitement in his voice, but she couldn't tell if it was due to anticipation or surprise. “I'm so happy you decided to call me.”

“Well, I figured after last night, I owed you a call,” she said, surprised at herself for how easily the words tumbled out of her mouth. “I mean, I said I would.” 

“You did.” His sounded so enthusiastic at just this little gesture. “Have you thought about showing me around some more?”

“Yes,” she replied, “I will. However, I do believe that some of the sights I would like to show you will require something more than just public transportation.”

“Should I rent a car?” 

Meg froze for a moment, trying to decide whether she should let him, or whether she should try to talk Dani into loaning them hers. She came to a conclusion that the latter was a bad idea, given the circumstance of his being there. “Yes, you probably should,” she resigned.

Tom laughed. “I'll do that. What time should I pick you up?”

“Dani is here,” Meg sighed. 

“Who's Dani?” He sounded suspicious.

“She's my roommate,” Meg explained. “I'm pretty sure she's one of those people you don't want to know you are here just yet.”

With a click of his tongue, he answered, “Got it.” 

“I can meet you,” she suggested. “Green Lake isn't far from here. And you can find it on the navigation no problem. And we can walk around the lake, too, if you'd like.”

“That sounds wonderful,” he purred. “Shall we say, two o'clock?”

“Okay.” 

Meg couldn't help grinning as she ended the call with him, and it felt weird. She had gone for so long being guarded and frightened of every little thing that she had nearly forgotten what it felt like to anticipate seeing someone new. She showered and put on a pair of black yoga pants, an Old Navy t-shirt, a fleece hoodie and a pair of sneakers. Glancing outside, she saw the angry sky that threatened another rain storm, so she grabbed her beanie, gloves and jacket before heading out. 

As she passed Dani's door, she called, “Hey, heading out for the day!”

Dani ran to the door and swung it open. “Are you meeting Him?” she asked, her eyes full of expectation. 

Nodding, Meg answered, “Yes,” to which Dani's response was another overwhelming hug.

“I'm so happy for you,” she gushed.

Meg left the apartment and began the trek to the lake. She reached the main parking lot just as her cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket in time to answer it. “Hello, Tom.”

She could hear the whir of the car in the background. “Hello, darling, where should I park?”

“Where are you at?” She looked around to see if there were any open spots and upon spying one, went to stand in it and save it for him.

“I've found myself next to the lake,” he answered. 

“Do you see a large building with a parking lot next to it?” 

“I do.” He paused for a moment. “I'm in a blue Prius.”

She strained her eyes to see if she could pick out his car from the multitudes that were passing by on the street. Spying one, she said, “I see you. Turn right into the next driveway.”

“Alright,” he said hesitantly. 

Meg watched as the Prius maneuvered into the parking lot and headed for her, a smiling Tom at the wheel. “And, here you are,” she said into the phone, waving at him before she hung up. As he angled the car to pull into the stall, she moved aside.

“This is beautiful, darling,” he gushed as he got out of the car and looked around at the scenery.

Meg stepped closer, a cynical look in her eye. “A Prius? Keeping things a bit too much on the down low are we?”

“I wanted to be environmentally responsible and the Tesla was just too flashy,” he grinned. Meg couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

She shrugged. “It'll do.” 

Tom wrapped her in his arms and kissed the crown of her head. “I'm so glad you decided to try this out,” he gushed. Meg wriggled in his arms. “Oh, God, I forgot to ask,” he gasped as he released her. “Are you alright?” His eyes filled with concern.

Meg chuckled. “I'm okay,” she answered. “I'm comfortable with you.” She took a deep breath before looking into his eyes. “I trust you.”

He looked sincerely touched. “I'm glad that you are,” he said softly, wrapping her into his arms once again. As he gazed down at her, he brought his hand up to her chin, nudging it gently upwards so that she was looking at him. “It makes it easier for me to do this,” he whispered before leaning down and landing a gentle kiss on her lips.

She felt a wave of warmth wash over her that made every inch of her body tingle, but she also fought the urge to escape. In an act of defiance for that self-preservation reflex that welled up, she willfully ignored it and chose to wrap her arms around his waist. A low moan welled in her throat and escaped her lips. “I... wow,” she managed to say when he released her. “You're the first man I've kissed since...”

He smiled. “Well, it was wonderful.”

“It was,” she smiled back as she moved to grasp his hands. “I haven't felt this free since before Jason.” For the first time in a long time, she said his name without feeling revulsion in the pit of her stomach.

Tom scowled. “Is that what his name is?” When she nodded, he growled, “He better stay away or he'll have to answer to me.”

“He won't,” Meg answered. “He's been put away for a long time. I pressed charges and he was convicted of attempted murder.”

“Good girl,” Tom nodded. “As long as I'm around, I won't let anyone hurt you.” He pulled her hands up to kiss them.

She closed her eyes and felt like she was floating as he guided her towards the paved path at the edge of the lake. “Tom,” she finally said as she opened her eyes to see him gazing out across the water, “Why me?”

He turned his attention back to her and lovingly caressed her cheek. “Why not, darling?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So many feels... they're slowly getting there.

Her phone rang, nearly vibrating itself off the nightstand. With a groan, Meg rolled over and grabbed it, tempted to throw it across the room. It was light out, a slight glint of fall sunlight peeking through the blinds. Turning the phone so she could see the screen, she first glanced at the time, “9:15am” and then the caller. “Crash” flashed on the screen. With a swipe of her finger, she answered it. “Hello, Tom,” she grumbled. 

“Hello, darling,” he said exuberantly, then, with a pause, “Did I wake you?”

“Umm, it's okay, I should be waking up now, anyway.” She rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“I'm so sorry,” he apologized. “I was up early this morning and went for a run around the lake and, since I was in the area, thought you might like to catch some breakfast.”

She couldn't help but smile. They had spent the entire afternoon walking around the lake and talking the day before, getting to know each other. “I know the perfect place, but I hope you're hungry.”

“I just got done with a run, I'm always hungry.” He laughed and it ringed through the phone. She had never met someone with such an infectious laugh before.

She gave him the address of the restaurant. “I know it's not far, but I'll meet you there in a half an hour,” she said. “I've just got to get dressed.”

“Nothing too fancy, I hope,” he joked. “After all, I am in my sweats, a hoodie and trainers.”

“It's definitely not a fancy place,” she giggled. “I'll meet you there.”

Meg climbed out of bed and pulled a pair of jeans and a band t-shirt out of her drawer. She pulled on a pair of shoes and a hoodie and looked at the thermometer outside the kitchen window to see if she needed to bundle up more. It was a balmy 60 degrees. 

She got off the bus at the corner of Greenlake and Aurora and spied Tom standing, leaning against the front of the building casually glancing around, watching the cars that passed by him. When he saw Meg walking towards him, a huge grin spread across his face. He nodded at her expectantly and waited for her to nod back at him before enveloping her in his arms. “How's my favorite tour guide?” he asked, his voice muffled by her hair.

As he released her, she answered, “Awake, now,” with a smile.

He let her go and grasped her hand. “So what is this place? It doesn't seem like much.” He gestured towards the plain facade, painted black but faded to a dark gray, window facing out to the street.

“This,” she replied as he opened the door, “is a Seattle institution.”

As they stepped in, Tom closed his eyes and inhaled the heavenly smell of the griddle and bacon. “Oh my God!” he exclaimed.

“Welcome to Beth's,” a waitress approached. “Take any seat you'd like.”

With a smile, Meg nodded at her and led Tom to one of the booths in the back. They sat on opposite sides and she watched in amusement as he took in the walls, covered in papers containing the crayon drawings of people of all ages. She grabbed a piece of paper and a cup full of crayons from a neighboring table. “Care to add to the decor?” she asked.

With a chuckle, he took a page from her and set to work on a picture, his tongue resting between his lips like he was channeling his inner five-year-old. He looked up only when the waitress came to take their order. “Have you figured out what you'd like?” she asked.

Tom nodded at Meg. “You know what's good here...”

“We'd like to share the twelve-egg omelet,” Meg answered, “And two cups of coffee, please.”

She looked over and Tom's eyes were wide, his jaw dropped. “They have twelve egg omelets here?” he rasped.

Meg laughed. “I asked if you were hungry!” She leaned her head against the back of the booth and let the delight of his response wash over her. When she looked back at him, she saw that he was watching her, beaming.

“You are beautiful when you laugh,” he smiled, his eyes dancing merrily. “I don't think I could ever tire of watching you laugh.”

She stopped and leaned on her elbows on the table. “Funny,” she smirked, “I was thinking the same thing about listening to you laugh on the phone this morning.” She extended her hand to reach for a crayon that was lying in the middle of the table and Tom, stopped her, covering her hand with his own. For a moment, she stopped, looking at their hands, feeling something had changed, unable to put her finger on it. When she glanced back up at Tom, he was studying her again, his face serious. “What?” she asked, her voice barely managing to come out as a whisper.

Tom opened his mouth like he was about to say something when he was interrupted by the waitress bringing their coffee. As she handed Meg her mug, Meg pulled her hand out from under Tom's. He pulled his own hand back and took his mug, silently setting it on the table in front of him and waiting for it to be filled with the scalding liquid. He watched the waitress set a basket of sugars and creamers on the table in between them and then stared down into his lap. When the waitress had left, he sighed. 

Meg was concerned. “Is everything alright, Tom?” she asked.

He drew his focus back up to her face, his blue eyes searching her own. “I have an admission,” he said quietly, suddenly unsure of what words he was going to choose. With a resigned sigh, he continued. “Meg, I can't stop thinking about you.” He reached across the table and grasped her hand again. “You're the last thought I have at night and the first thought I have in the morning.” He finished with a sheepish smile.

A fear gripped Meg. Her chest began to tighten and she struggled to breathe. “Tom,” she gasped, pulling her hand from him once again, “I can't do this right now.”

He watched, confused. “What about yesterday? Our kiss?”

Meg shook her head and her body began to tremble. “I can't,” was all she could manage.

Tom watched as her eyes widened and began to fill with tears and panic. He stood and scooted onto the bench next to her, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her into him. “Shhhh,” he coddled, “You don't have to,” he whispered against her temple. “Breathe.” He held her there as she took one deep breath, then another as the feelings of panic began to subside. She stopped shaking in his arms and closed her eyes, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I'm sorry if I came on too strong,” he said softly. “I just didn't want anything to go unsaid.”

“I'm sorry,” she lamented, “I'm sorry.” She turned her face up to look at him. “I haven't done this for years and...” she stammered, “I'm afraid that I'm no good at this.”

With a comforting smile, he replied, “I don't expect you to be.” He sighed. “In fact, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. If you want to be friends, that's fine. If you want to be more than that, that's fine, too.” 

“You're too good for me,” she answered, her face turning back down, her shoulders slumping.

Tom grasped her chin and pulled her face back up towards her gently. “Don't you ever say that,” he scowled. “You are wonderful and any man would be glad to have you.” His voice softened. “Including me.” He leaned down and kissed her, gingerly sweeping his lips against hers before landing them on her cheek.

The waitress brought their food on a platter and set it down in front of them. With a knowing smile, she commented, “You two make such a cute couple!” She turned and left them alone.

Meg grabbed a fork from beside her drawing on the table and stabbed it into the omelet silently. Tom began to stand, resigning himself to his own side of the table, when she grabbed his hand and pulled him back down. “No,” she said.

Confused, he sat back down. “But I thought...”

She shook her head and raised the fork full of omelet towards him. “Have a bite.”

Tom opened his mouth and let her feed him. “This is wonderful,” he said as he swallowed the food. He reached across the table and picked up his own fork, filling its tines with egg and cheese and sausage, lifting it up and directing it towards her mouth. “Your turn,” he said devilishly.

Meg smiled at him and opened her mouth, sticking her tongue out to catch it as he gently let it slide off the fork into her mouth. “Mmmmm,” she hummed as she swallowed. Once she was able to, she said, “Tom, I need to take this slowly.”

“Alright,” he nodded.

She took a deep breath and continued. “You are the first person that I have met that has the ability to stop my panic attacks. I don't know how you do it, but you do. And that, in and of itself, scares the hell out of me.” 

He looked at her curiously. “Why does it scare you?”

“Because the last time I fell for someone, I was hurt, badly.” A tear began to seep out of the corner of her eye.

He sucked his lips in and inhaled, letting the breath come out smoothly and slowly. “I'm not that guy,” he said. “I would never hurt you.”

“I don't want to be the girl you have to save and then begin to resent, either.” The tear began to roll down her cheek.

Tom reached up, his finger intercepting it and wiping it away as he leaned in close. “That'll never happen.”

She closed her eyes as his hand lingered, cupping her cheek. “I don't want to be a burden.”

“You're not.” His voice had gotten lower, nearly a whisper, and his lips fluttered against hers, gently working them while his other hand migrated to her neck, sliding into her hair, holding her to him. She didn't try to push him away. Instead, she leaned into him, accepting his kiss, opening her mouth slightly and allowing his tongue access as it danced with her own. 

He needed to take a breath and leaned back from her, never taking his eyes off of her. “I hope that means what I think it means,” he chuckled.

She couldn't help but giggle. “I think so,” she answered. Glancing sideways at the platter of food, she commented, “We should probably eat this before it gets cold.”

“Yeah,” he agreed.

They dug into their food, devouring nearly the whole thing before they sat back against the bench and rubbed their stomachs. “I'm done,” Meg announced, tapping her hand on the table. “I'm tapping out.”

“Nice wrestling reference,” he chuckled. Leaning close to her ear, he growled, “Does that mean I eventually get to pin you?”

A shiver ran down Meg's spine and she gasped. “Eventually, maybe,” she answered shakily. 

His face fell again. “Did I say something wrong again?”

“No,” she answered, “I just wasn't ready for that.” She leaned up to kiss him again. “Friends?”

Tom smiled. “Friends.” The word felt strange coming from his mouth after the kiss they had shared. “Friends?”

With a snicker, Meg replied, “Or maybe more.” She blushed and batted her eyes at him.

He stood up and paid the bill and she followed him outside. It had gotten a bit colder since they had gone in, and her teeth began to chatter. Tom wrapped his arm around her. “Do you mind if we go back to my hotel so I can change before we go explore?” he asked as he guided her towards his rental car.

As Meg got inside, she answered, “Not at all.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is inspired by the song "Let's be still" by The Head &The Heart...
> 
> http://youtu.be/-rKpmzRdWrs
> 
> And almost smut.

"You can put some music on, if you'd like," Tom said before he excused himself to jump in the shower.

Meg nodded as he disappeared into the room and walked over to the desk where his ipod was docked. She wasn't quite comfortable with scrolling through his personal music collection, so she pulled the device from the dock, fished her own out of her hoodie pocket and set it in. Scrolling through her music, she thought she'd play something Tom maybe hadn't heard before, a local band that was already making a national name for themselves, The Head and The Heart. She put the album on shuffle and closed her eyes letting the music flow through her, swaying to the rhythm. 

By the third song, she had forgotten where she was and who she was with. She was lost in the music, singing along: The world's just spinning A little too fast If things don't slow down soon we might not last. So just for the moment, let's be still. until Tom stole quietly up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, moving with her. She jumped.

"You have a beautiful voice," he whispered in her ear.

Meg turned around to look at him. Some time in between the shower and sneaking up on her, he had found time to get dressed in a pair of jeans and a white button-down shirt. "Thanks," she said quietly.

He nodded towards the Ipod. "This is beautiful music, who is it?"

Taking a deep breath, she answered, "The Head and the Heart. I thought you might like it."

"I love it," he replied. He still held her in his arms. "Would you like to dance?"

She felt awkward as she nodded and lifted her arms up, clasping her hands behind his neck, her head rested on his chest. She could hear his heartbeat as they moved, felt the sinews of his muscled chest against her, the warmth of his arms around her, his body moving against hers. His breath as warm against the top of her head, but it made her shiver. She had never felt so safe and so afraid at the same time. To take her mind off her feelings, she sang along again, her voice softly carrying through the room:

The world's just spinning  
A little too fast  
If things don't slow down soon we might not last.  
The world's not forgiving  
Of everyone's fears.  
The days turn into months the months turn into years.  
So just for a moment, let's be still

Tom joined in for the final chorus, his voice low and smooth, the perfect harmony with hers. As the last line faded out, he stopped moving and leaned down, his face next to hers. She had her eyes closed when he kissed her, slowly, deeply, and there was no resistance. He pulled her closer, like he was afraid of losing her, and she melted into him with a sigh.

Almost before Meg knew what she was doing, she pulled away. Her eyes were liquid, rimmed with tears. Breathlessly, she stared at Tom. "I... I..." she stammered. "I'm..." She couldn't finish her sentence.

"Then don't," he answered, placing one finger across her lips. "We'll do what you feel like doing. I didn't bring you here to seduce you, I only wanted to take a shower," he chuckled.

"I'm confused," she moaned, "I really like you, but I'm scared." She made no move to escape his embrace. "My heart says yes, my mind, not so much."

Tom let go of her and sat down on the sofa, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Like I said," he shrugged, "Whatever you're comfortable with."

Meg sat down next to him, her hands rested on her knees. "Then, let's do what the song said," she smiled.

He raised his eyebrow at her. "What do you mean?"

She began to sing again, "Just for a moment, let's be still..." She leaned towards him and kissed him, ignoring her own panic, following the moment.

Tom was startled for a moment, but soon his arms wrapped around her once again, drawing her to him, caught in the kiss as her lips moved softly over his. "Are you sure you want this?" he whispered.

Nodding, Meg cuddled into him. "I've never been sure." She pulled her hoodie off and tossed it to the end of the sofa, her arms breaking into goosebumps as they were bared to the cool air making her shiver. She leaned up to him and kissed him again, reaching her hand around his neck and pulling him down to her.

Unsure what to do with his hands, Tom embraced her, his hands sliding down to her waist and gripping her. He parted his lips and ran his tongue across her lips, plying them open. He heard her gasp, but she relaxed, giving him entrance, letting his tongue slide across hers.

Her hands crept to his chest, fingers loosening his buttons and pulling the fabric of his shirt away, baring his skin, nails scraping until his shirt was entirely open. She moved her mouth down his neck, softly trailing to his chest. He let out a soft groan. "I don't want to do anything you're uncomfortable with," he muttered.

"I'm okay," she responded. "This is okay."

Tom took her answer as his cue. He slid his hands up her back, under her t-shirt and unclasped her bra. Caressing her sides, he brought his hands around front and slid them under the lacy fabric to cup her breasts. "Let me know if anything I do makes you uncomfortable," he said, his voice full of sincerity.

Meg tipped her eyes to him. "I will."

He rolled her nipples, feeling them harden as she moaned against his neck. He leaned back against the arm of the sofa and let her unbutton his jeans. "Are you sure?" he asked.

Meg pulled her hands away from him and took her shirt off, revealing her skin, her back and sides ribboned with scars. "If you are alright with this," she said softly.

He reached out and tentatively touched one of them, his fingers dancing along the silvery scar. "Is this from...?"

"Yeah," she nodded. 

Tom's concern softened. "These only make you more beautiful. You're a survivor."

With a smile, Meg stood up, her bra falling from her arms. She unbuttoned her own jeans and pulled them down over her hips, kicking off her shoes in the process, and revealing her lacy panties. "Then I'm alright with this."

He stood up, his motions mimicking hers as he pulled his own jeans down, revealing his lack of boxers. With a smirk, he held his arms out and Meg jumped into them, embracing him with fervor. Tom kissed her and picked her up, carrying her to the bed and lying her down on it before covering her body with his own. His fingers twisted into the elastic of her panties and pulled them down. He swept his lips over her neck, trailing to the valley of her breasts, softly working them over each nipple while Meg sighed in approval. He moved down her abdomen, feeling the muscles flutter as he brushed over them. 

Meg could feel his hardness grow against her, separated only by the fabric of his boxers, the front of which bore a wet spot of precum. She pressed herself against him and raised her feet up, looping her toes around the elastic of his boxers and sliding them down over his hips and down to his knees as he raised up over her. 

"Are you still okay with this?" he asked, his voice low, his eyes hooded and dilated.

She nodded, but just as she did, another wave of nerves overtook her and she contradicted herself. "No, I'm not," she gushed, her eyes full of tears. "I'm sorry. I thought I was, but I'm not."

Tom rolled over, his cock at full mast against the bedspread. He leaned on his arm and groaned. "Alright," he sighed.

Meg felt an utter revulsion for herself. She hadn't meant to lead him on. In fact, up until the moment, she had been confident and completely willing. Embarrassed, she clamored from the bed and grabbed her clothes. "I'm sorry," she repeated, getting dressed as quickly as possible. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

He stood up and pulled his boxers back on. "It's alright," he said, trying to embrace her as she drove herself into full panic mode. "Like I said, whatever you're comfortable with."

She evaded him, pulled her iPod from the dock, shutting the music off and plunging them into silence. "I can't, I'm sorry," she cried, her voice breaking. "I've got to go." With that, she escaped through the door, leaving him alone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get the tissue, this chapter is full of feels... Sorry!

Meg's phone beeped with a text message. She picked it up, saw it was from him and ignored it, choosing to cover her head with her blankets and go back to sleep. She wasn't sure how long she slept, but she woke up again to Dani knocking on her door. It opened a crack and Dani's voice carried through her room. “You can't stay in here the rest of your life,” she said.

“Yes, I can.” Meg's voice was muffled and weak.

Dani opened the door the rest of the way and came in to sit on the edge of her bed. “What happened?” All she knew was that Meg had come home in tears two days before and had been in her room ever since. “Was it that guy?”

Meg uncovered her face. “I don't want to talk about it.” Her cheeks were tear-stained, her eyes rimed with red, her nose crusty. She scowled. “I don't want to talk about it.” She tried to cover herself back up, but Dani grabbed the blankets and held them down.

“But you NEED to talk about it.” Dani's smile faded to a stern, motherly look. “Your doctor would agree, I think.”

With a huge sigh, Meg closed her eyes. “I thought I was ready for a relationship, but I'm not.”

“What do you mean?” 

“We went to his room and got as far as undressed and...” Her voice began to break, her body wracked with sobs as she fought to continue. “I couldn't. I left him there. I'm so embarrassed.”

Dani was crying right with Meg and pulled her up, wrapping her arms around her. “Oh, Sweetie,” she cooed. “I'm so sorry. Have you tried to call him?”

Meg shook her head. “No,” she sniffled. “He's tried to contact me, but... I just can't.”

Dani motioned for Meg's phone. “Do you mind if I listen to his messages?”

Shaking her head, Meg answered, “Just let it lie.” She grabbed the phone and shoved it into the pile of blankets. “I don't want to know what he said. It's just one big embarrassing part of my life that I'd sooner forget.”

For a moment, Dani contemplated what Meg was saying before quietly suggesting, “You should call Dr. Cramer.”

With an alarmed look on her face, Meg asked, “What day is it?”

“Friday. Why?” Dani was confused by her sudden change of subject.

With a huff, Meg threw off the covers. “Fuck!” she yelled into the corner. She looked at Dani, who was shying away from her switch in demeanor. “Sorry,” she said more calmly. “I have an appointment in ten minutes.”

Knowing that there was no way Meg could keep her appointment with Dr. Cramer by taking the bus, Dani offered her a ride. “On the condition you tell Dr. Cramer about what happened and get her insight on it.” Meg agreed, throwing on the cleanest pair of yoga pants she could find, a t-shirt, slip-on shoes and a hoodie. She brushed her hair into a messy bun and she was ready.

Meg had contemplated leaving her phone at home, both because she didn't want to risk Dani grabbing it if he called, but also because she was afraid of what his messages might contain. She wasn't sure she could face Tom or any part of Tom, not alone, not with Dani, not with anyone. In the end, she shoved it into her hoodie pocket and followed Dani out of the apartment and into her ancient Camaro. 

Dani was particularly fond of her car, meaning to eventually fix it up. She defended that it only needed a little TLC, that the rust on the bumper could be sanded out and repainted, that the crack in the windshield would be taken care of, that the slightly smoke-smelling interior with the ratty carpets and stained gold-colored seats just needed to be replaced. She never got around to it, and each year she procrastinated on it, more on it would break. As Meg opened the passenger door, the handle broke off. “Ummm, Dani...” she said timidly holding it up.

Dani scowled. “Just throw it in the back.”

Meg did as she was told and tossed it to the floor behind her seat before climbing in. She wasn't a fan of Dani's driving skills, usually she preferred to walk or take the bus because Dani drove like a bat out of Hell, weaving in between traffic like the cars were orange construction cones. Today, however, was different. She took great care, merged nicely, waited for the lights and was courteous to her fellow drivers. “Are you okay?” Meg asked. “You're driving like my grandma.”

As they waited at a light, Dani looked at her friend and took stock of her haggard condition before speaking. “I'm worried about you, sis,” she said solemnly. “I thought this guy was the one that would help you get back to being you. You seemed so vibrant, so happy, and now you just seem kinda... lost.”

The light turned green and they were moving again. Meg took a deep breath. “Thank you for worrying about me. I'll be fine...” her voice trailed off, followed by a feeling of immense emptiness. Her breath got more rapid and tears began to fall, hot against her cheek. When she spoke again, her voice was thin and catching. “I'll be fine.”

There was really nothing Dani could do to help Meg. She gave her a hug as she dropped her off at Dr. Cramer's office before speeding away to work. Meg stared at the building, its glass facade, how it reflected the clouds and looked like an abstract extension of the sky. She went through the double doors, took the elevator up to the tenth floor and checked in with Dr. Cramer's receptionist before taking a seat in the lobby. “It should only be a few minutes,” the receptionist said.

“Thanks, Donna,” Meg answered as she opened an outdated copy of Silver Screen magazine. She flipped through the pages, not really reading, perusing the photos, laughing at the quoted anecdotes, waiting as the clock ticked agonizingly slowly. 

By the time Dr. Cramer came out to get her, Meg was in tears, her body shaking with emotion, her elbows against her knees, her head buried in her arms, the magazine hanging open by two fingers that held it open. “Meg,” Dr. Cramer said, holding her shoulders and trying to break her out of the tears. “Are you alright?”

Meg looked up at her, her eyes red, and held up the magazine. “No,” she sobbed. “I'm not.”

Dr. Cramer took the magazine from her and looked at the page it was open to. “What's in here to cry about?” she asked, not seeing any obvious triggers.

“That's him,” Meg answered, her breath hitched by sadness. “That's him.” She was overcome by another wave of woe.

“Come into my office,” Dr. Cramer said, her voice commanding because she knew otherwise, Meg wouldn't have followed. She helped Meg to her feet and discarded the magazine on the end table. They made their way into her private office, closed the door and she helped Meg sit in one of the club chairs in the corner. “Now, will you tell me what this was all about?”

Meg grabbed a handful of tissues from the box on the table next to her and pressed them against her nose, then dabbed them at her eyes. She tried her hardest to keep it together. “Remember when I told you about that guy I met last week?”

“Yes,” Dr. Cramer replied cautiously. “You seemed so upbeat about him.” She was hesitant to use the word “happy” because it wasn't she would readily apply to any circumstance. “What happened?”

Meg recounted the meeting, the days that followed, her entirety of the week she had spent with him. Until the last. She stared at Dr. Cramer with dead eyes. “It just didn't work out.”

“Meg, I can't help but feeling like you're leaving something out,” Dr. Cramer scolded. “I can't help you unless you are entirely truthful with me. Remember, this is a safe place. What happens in this room never leaves.” Her words were harsh, but her eyes were full of nothing but kindness and understanding. “Now, what else happened?”

Closing her eyes and leaning back against the chair, Meg told her about their last time together, how she felt like she had led him on, that she had a sudden panic attack and left him there and hadn't spoken to him since. “The worst part is, I really liked him,” Meg finished with a final sigh.

Dr. Cramer contemplated her words carefully before finally speaking. “I can see why you were embarrassed,” she said, “But it sounds like he was more than understanding of everything you've been through.”

Meg nodded. “Yes, he was.”

“Well, Meg, you can't expect to get back into a relationship so quickly.” Dr. Cramer tapped her pen on her knee. “You knew him less than a week and felt you were ready to sleep with him?” 

“You said you wouldn't judge me,” Meg accused, puckering her face.

Dr. Cramer shook her head. “I'm not judging you,” she answered, “I am trying to understand so I can help you.” She picked up a pad paper from her desk and wrote a note on it. “We knew this was going to be a process, that it would take some time before you get back to your own self.”

“But I want to be normal!” Meg stood and screamed. “I want to be able to have a relationship with someone without feeling like they're going to kill me! I want to be able to trust someone! I want to be able to have a normal interaction without feeling like I'm going to die.”

“And you will get there.” Dr. Cramer set her pen down and came over to embrace Meg's shoulders. “I think you underestimate yourself.”

Meg calmed down. “What do you mean?” she asked meekly.

“Well, you did say that, initially, you were able to stifle the panic, with his help, didn't you?” Her voice was soothing.

“I did.” Meg closed her eyes. “But when we were on the bed, I freaked out and it all came back.”

Dr. Cramer let go of her and Meg opened her eyes. “Have you tried to contact him?” Meg shook her head. “Has he tried to contact you?”

“Yes,” Meg answered quietly. “He's called and left a few voicemails and a few text messages. I haven't listened to them yet.” She pulled her phone from her pocket and handed it to her doctor. “I don't know that I can.”

Taking the phone from her hand, Dr. Cramer said, “You at least need some closure on this. Let's listen together.”

As much as Meg didn't want to listen, she knew Dr. Cramer was right. She nodded and flopped back into her chair, bringing her knees up in front of her and crossing her arms around them.

“I can understand your need to be guarded right now, Meg,” the doctor said. “Please try to be open minded about what you hear, though.” She pressed the voicemail icon and turned the speaker on so they could both hear.

First Message

“Meg, I have no idea what I did to make you leave like that, but, whatever it is, I'm sorry. Please call me back and let me know you're alright.”

Second Message

“My Darling, I don't want you to harbor any ill will towards me. I don't know if I could live with myself if I knew I had harmed you in some way. Please call me.”

Third Message

“Listen, I am hoping that perhaps you didn't receive my other messages. I want to know if everything is alright. I want you to be alright. Please, Meg, what did I do wrong?”

Fourth Message

“Meg, I hate that I did this to you, whatever it is. Please call me so I can make sure you are okay.”

Fifth Message

“Well, I think I've gotten the hint that you don't want to talk to me and I'll have to live with that. I hope you are alright. I've gotten the call that I'm needed back in London, so I'll be leaving tomorrow. For the short time we had together, I'll always be grateful.”

By the end of the fifth message, Meg was sobbing, once again dabbing tissues at her eyes. “I didn't want to hurt him,” she bawled. 

The doctor hung up on the voicemail system and touched the text message icon, pulling up the messages labeled “Crash.” He had sent her a total of twelve, all of them pieces of Shakespearean sonnets, except the last, a simple, “Goodbye.”

“Are you content to leave it at that, Meg?” Dr. Cramer asked.

“No,” Meg sniffled, “I'm not. But he must think I hate him.” She held her hands out and put her feet on the floor. “How can he love someone so broken?” she wept. “How can he care about this?” She crumpled to the floor.

Dr. Cramer approached her and sat down next to her. “The question is, why don't you?” She placed her hand on Meg's back between her shoulder blades. “Do you feel that you are somehow responsible for how Jason treated you?” She waited a moment for Meg to answer and was rewarded only with a slight nod. “You are every bit as worthy of love as any other person on this planet. You deserve to be happy. Maybe that is where we have gone wrong in your therapy. I was focused on getting you away from the social anxiety and the panic attacks cause by closeness.”

Meg looked up at her weepy-eyed. “I don't feel worthy of anything. I barely feel worthy of being alive sometimes. I'm a nothing.”

“Meg,” the doctor said sternly. “You are not nothing. That is Jason talking. Think about all you have done, all the lives you have touched.”

Meg rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Clarence,” she scoffed.

“I want you to take the first step of your revised therapy plan, to put you first.” Dr. Cramer retrieved the phone from the desk.

Confused, Meg scowled as she was handed the phone. “Which is...?”

“Call him.” She stood with her arms akimbo, watching Meg as she began to shake. “Now close your eyes and take a deep breath. You'll get over this episode.”

Meg did as she was told, closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths, counting to 100, gripping the phone so hard her knuckles were white. When she opened her eyes, she was more calm. “Okay,” she said. “I'll call him.” She pushed the button on the side to turn the screen on and flipped to her contacts. There it was in black and white, “Crash.” Nervously, she ran her finger over the icon to call him. She held the phone up to her ear and waited, one ring, two rings, three rings, four rings... It went to voicemail. His smooth voice came on the line. “Hello, this is Tom, leave a message and I'll get back to you.” Sweet and to the point, very him. “Tom,” she sighed. “It's Meg. Ummm... I got your messages and I just wanted to say I'm sorry. That was a really shitty thing of me to do. You didn't do anything to deserve that and, well, I'm sorry.” She hung up and sobbed again, leaning against the shoulder that Dr. Cramer offered.

“I'm proud of you, Meg,” Dr. Cramer whispered.


	8. Chapter 8

His return call didn't come right away. It was measured out in days, long enough that Meg had come to terms with existing without him, dismissing their brief, whatever it was, as a chance she had given up. And she was okay with it. She went back to her life, solitary with the exception of Dani and her family. She eschewed the paths they had taken together, preferring not to be reminded of the gentle man who had shared those memories with her, instead finding alternate routes. She had buried herself so far into her cocoon of safety that, when her phone rang and the screen flashed his name, it took her a moment to realize what was happening. She blinked and answered it on the third ring. "Hello, Tom," she said flatly. She wanted nothing more than to not hurt him again and went so far as to attempt to mask her feelings. "Listen, I'm sorry about what happened between us."

"My Darling," he greeted enthusiastically, "I'm the one who's sorry. Whatever it was I did, tell me and I won't do it again."

Meg shifted uncomfortably on the bench at the Locks she was sitting on. "It wasn't you, it was me." It was getting harder to keep herself in check. "I'm so fucked up in the head that I thought I was more ready for that than I was."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "I was so worried. I thought that, if I'd stopped you, us, that you'd be with me, now."

"But you're in London," she protested. 

"Yeah, I am." He stopped speaking for a moment and she worried that they'd been disconnected until he began to speak again. "I'll be here for a good month before filming begins."

Meg let out a breath, belieing her true disappointment. "Where will you be filming? "

"Vancouver, of all places," he chuckled. "Story is set in Seattle, but we're filming in Vancouver."

"That happens a lot up here." She felt like she was filling an awkward silence.

Tom, perhaps sensing how uncomfortable she was, decided to leave it at that. "Well, I should go," he said. "Can I call you later?"

"Sure." As soon as Meg hung up with him, she felt like crying. Her heart hung heavy as she stood up and began collecting her things, no longer content to sit and write while watching the boats move through the Locks. She took the bus home and, once there, threw her bag in the corner, laid down on her bed and sobbed. 

When Dani came home from work, that was how she found Meg, curled up in her bed, covered in blankets, listening to The Head and The Heart on an endless loop. "Oh, no, what happened? " were the first words out of her mouth.

"He called me," Meg answered, her voice rough from crying. "I feel shitty." She looked up at Dani from her bundle of blankets with a pained expression. "He's coming back in a month." 

"Well, is that good news, or does he hate you?" The words tumbled out of her mouth before she'd had a chance to self-edit them.

Meg shook her head. "No, at least, I don't think he does. He asked if he could call me later. I said yes."

Dani sat down on her bed and pulled her into a hug. "Well, that's wonderful news!"

With a sniffle, Meg asked, "How can I talk to him without things being weird? Just the small conversation we had was strange."

"You'll just find a way," Dani shrugged. "If you really, truly like him, you'll figure it out."

"I was afraid you'd say that," Meg grumbled.

It was three more days before she heard from him again, this time coming as no surprise, except that, when he called her, she was unable to answer. She had shut her phone volume off while in the library, reading and doing research. While in the stacks, she felt the familiar vibration on her hip. Pulling the phone from her pocket, she saw it was him, but, mindful of not disturbing the other patrons, she let it go to voicemail and carefully made her way outside the lopsided glass building. 

She sat down on the concrete edge of a flower garden and stared at her phone, contemplating her next move. The voicemail icon popped up and she pressed on it, holding the phone up to her ear. "I'm sorry I missed you, Meg," his smooth voice poured into her ear. "I hope that you've only been unable to answer due to my bad timing rather than having second thoughts." He punctuated with a chuckle. "The thing is, I can't stop thinking about you. You occupy a place in my mind, in my heart quite like no one else has and... God, I shouldn't be leaving this on your voicemail. Just call me, I'd rather tell you in person."

She stopped to breathe, realizing she hadn't taken a breath the whole time she listened. She hung up from her voicemail and called him back. He answered after one ring. "Sorry I didn't answer, I was in the library," she said as soon as she heard him on the line.

"Darling!" she could hear the happiness in his voice, the inflection so different from the concerned tone on his voicemail. "I'm so glad to hear back from you so soon. I don't have long, so I'll make this short."

"Okay, " she said hesitantly. 

He took a deep breath. "I can't get you out of my mind and I know that we really only have known each other for a few days, but you're different from any other girl I've ever known. I want to... God, how do I say this without sounding like a complete cad... I don't want to be just friends. I hope we can be something more. Can we?" He was getting flustered. 

Meg surprised herself when the words came out of her own mouth. "We can."

He sighed with relief. "You've made me the happiest man in the room right now." There was a voice in the background and he was quiet for a moment before speaking again. "I've got to go, we're rehearsing," he said. "I'll call you when I'm done."

"I'll be waiting." This time when she hung up, Meg's eyes were moist not from grief or regret, but hope. She felt like a huge weight had been lifted from her. She was lighter and happier than she'd felt since before that fateful day.

When Meg went home, she did something she never thought she would do; s she Googled him and spent the remainder of the afternoon wading through interviews and YouTube videos of Tom. She found herself laughing hysterically at his antics in some and was touched by his sentiment in others. They reminded her of the man she knew so much that it made her heart ache and she began to miss him, his smell, his need to touch her even when it was just a hand on her shoulder or moving a hair from her face. He was so kind and considerate. She longed to be with him again.

It was just at the fall of evening when he called again. She knew it was late at night, or early in the morning for him and she thought he sounded tired as he said, "Hello, my darling. How was your day?"

"Tom!" she inadvertently squealed. Getting more control over herself, she said calmly, "It was wonderful." She didn't want to tell him she'd spent the entire day obsessing over him like a madwoman. "I was thinking of you all day."

He chuckled. "I must admit, I had my mind on work a good majority of the day, but in my down time, all my thoughts were of you." She could hear him fidgeting with something in the background. "I'm relaxing now, bit of vodka tonic."

"I'm contemplating dinner," she responded. "Not sure whether to have a tuna sandwich or a grilled cheese."

"You really should eat more than that," he scoffed. 

"I'm not really that hungry," she said. "My appetite has been nearly nonexistent lately."

"Tell me that's not my fault," he said.

She shook her head, even though he couldn't see it. "It's not. Dr. Cramer said it's normal for someone who's been on such an emotional roller-coaster like I have. As my emotions even out, so will my appetite."

"That's good to hear." He stopped to take a sip and there was the sound of the ice in his glass. "I'll leave you to your dinner, then. I've got to get to sleep, myself. I've gotta long day tomorrow, so I'll call you when I can."

"I'll be waiting." She felt like a complete idiot saying that, like she was a princess needing rescuing. 

"As will I, Luv." There was a soft click as he hung up.

*****

The next day came and went with no call from Tom. Meg tried not to worry, rationalizing that he had probably had so much going on that he couldn't spare a moment. He'd said it was a busy day, after all. So she, in turn, threw herself into her writing, spending her day typing on he laptop, stopping only for a bit to eat. Her fingers worked furiously on the keyboard and, before Dani came home from work, she had written over 50 pages. She showed Dani what she had accomplished and was rewarded with a hug and a dinner invitation. "Let's go out to celebrate!" Dani said. "Some Thai food and then out for drinks? It's been ages since I've done that. Maybe I'll find a man."

Meg showered and put on a navy blue maxi skirt, a tank top and a thick v-neck sweater that was blue and white. She slid her feet into a pair of boots, anticipating the cool evening air. 

They walked down the street to Thai One On, which was more of a hipster Thai place than anything, but the restaurant had great food, especially the red curry. It was busy for a Friday night, the servers bustling, the cacophony from the dishes adding to the rhythm of the evening. Meg told Dani about what she had written and Dani told Meg about her day at work.

When their meal was done, they retreated to Dani's car and drove to Wallingford. She parked off of 45 th and they walked a block down to a place called The Octopus Bar that Dani liked to frequent. She knew the bartender and engaged in some animated conversation with her as Meg found a seat. When Dani returned, she was flushed from laughing. "You'll never believed what happened a few weeks ago!" she howled as she sat down.

"What?" Meg asked, amused.

Dani leaned forward, elbows on the table, straining to keep her voice to a whisper. "Apparently, we've had a movie star in our midst." She giggled like a schoolgirl spreading rumors. "Michelle said Tom Hiddleston was here. She said he stopped in here and apparently drank himself into quite the stupor, moaning about some woman."

Meg tried her best to masque her surprise, but her face was ashen as she listened to everything her friend was saying. 

"Seems he had met someone here and fell head over heels for her and she left him." Dani stopped talking when she noticed Meg's expression. "Are you alright?"

Meg closed her eyes and shook her head. "Too many people," she said. "I need some air." She stood from the table and stumbled through the crowd, down the stairs to the street. She leaned her head back against the fence and let the tears fall hard, covering her face with her hands. As she calmed down, she pulled her phone from the pocket of her jacket and dialed him. She got voicemail. "Listen, Tom, ummm, I'm at a place called The Octopus Bar and people here are talking about you. They know you were in town and apparently you get talkative when you're drunk. Ummmm... Call me." She didn't know what else to say.

Meg was about to go back in when Dani appeared at her side. "I'm sorry, I forgot how crowded that place gets," she said. "We can find somewhere else, if you'd like."

"No," Meg answered. "I think I'd just like to go home." 

They spent the car ride in silence, the radio filling the void where their voiced would normally have been. Dani had the station to the public radio and they were in the midst of a blues set that perfectly matched how Meg was feeling. She leaned her head against the window and absorbed it all.

Dani parked the car in the garage to the back of the building and, as they walked to the front, they heard a familiar refrain. "Hey, isn't that the band you like?" Dani observed as they began to round the corner.

"Yeah. I wish it wasn't that song, though." Meg's heart began to ache for Tom, her feet growing heavy, her eyes red with impending tears. Once they were in full view of the door, she glanced around, looking for where the music was coming from. There, across the street, leaned against the bumper of a rented Jeep, was Tom, dressed in jeans, a white t-shirt and a leather jacket. He looked straight at her and grinned. She ran to him, straight into his arms, was surrounded by him, and kissed him hard. "I missed you," she gushed. 

"Not more than I've missed you," he answered.


	9. Chapter 9

Dani froze on her way into the building, intuition telling her that Meg was no longer following her in. She turned around to spy her friend enveloped in the arms of a tall man who huddled over her, cradled her. "Meg!" she called, halfway excited, halfway impatient. The man unfolded himself from around Meg and stood upright, gazing lovingly at her. Meg glanced over her shoulder and beckoned Dani over.

"Dani," Meg beamed once she had reached them, "I'd like you to meet Tom."

Tom held out his hand and smiled as the suddenly silent Dani took it and weakly shook it. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you," he said.

She shot a look at Meg and mouthed, "You?"

Meg wrapped her arm around Tom's waist. "I'm sorry I kept this a secret from you, sis," she apologized. "Tom wanted to stay under the radar while he was here."

Dani couldn't stop staring. "You're the one he was going on about at the Octopus... "

"Yes, she was." Tom grew red with embarrassment. "I thought I'd lost her." He pulled Meg closer and she leaned her head against him happily.

"No way...." Dani stuttered, "This is Tom freaking Hiddleston."

An amused, "Ehehehe" escaped Tom's mouth as the humor of the situation was not lost on him. "I'm just a man," he said. "My feelings are no less and no more than anyone else's."

Dani looked back at Meg. "He's the one you've been going on about all these weeks?"

Nodding, Meg answered, "Yeah. He's the one." She looked up at Tom and smiled as he grinned at her. "Would you like to come in, Tom?" It had begun to get colder and she shivered against him.

"Darling, I would love to." He held her hand and let her lead him to the apartment, Dani trailing behind, still convinced she was imagining things. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair, kissing the crown of her head as she unlocked and opened the door and when they finally went inside, sat down on the one armchair they had and pulled her into his lap, resting his hand on her thigh.

"So, how did you meet?" Dani asked when she finally say down adjacent to them on the sofa.

"Well, you could say we ran into each other downtown," Meg smirked. She saw Tom do the same out of the corner of her eye. "And then he recruited me as a tour guide."

Dani smiled at them, excited to see Meg so happy. She glanced at the clock on her phone before saying, “Well, it's late and I've got work in the morning.” She stood up and patted Tom on the back. “It was nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he nodded.

Once Dani was safely in her room and out of earshot, Meg wrapped her arms around him. “I'm so glad you came back,” she whispered.

Tom smiled. “Me, too.” He embraced her, feeling her body pressed against him. 

Meg leaned back and gazed into his eyes. “Why did you come back?” she asked. “Most guys would have just shrugged and moved on.”

“I'm not most guys,” he answered softly. “Besides, while we were apart, it gave me a lot of time to think.” He took a deep breath and kissed her softly. “I couldn't get you out of my mind. You're different from any woman I have ever known and, well, Meg, I...”

She put a finger over his lip before returning his kiss. “Shhh, you don't have to say it.”

“But, I do.” His voice took on a serious tone. “Meg, I'm falling in love with you.”

She sat there a moment, stunned, expecting something from him, some expression of his feelings to be related to how she had coped with him previously, but not love. Instead of returning his sentiment, she asked, “Would you like to watch a movie?” She scrambled from his lap before he had a chance to keep her there and hastened to the TV on the other side of the room. She reached into the DVD cabinet and grabbed a movie out. “How about Casablanca?” She put the DVD into the player. As she stood up and turned around, she came face to face with his chest. As her eyes traveled up to his own troubled eyes, she burst into tears. She buried her face in his chest, wrapping her arms around him, feeling him pull her closer, draping her in his own embrace. 

Once the tears subsided, she sniffled, “Oh, Tom, I'm so sorry!” 

“It's alright, Darling,” he said sadly, “I understand.”

She shook her head. “No, you don't.” She looked up at him again, nearly overwhelmed with the amount of concern in his face. “I...” she choked, “I love you.”

He lit up. “Darling,” he gushed.

Before he could say anything else, she stood up on her tiptoes and wove her fingers through his hair, pulling him close and kissing him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up, carrying her to the sofa and sitting down with her on his lap once again. “You made me the happiest man on the planet,” he whispered. 

Meg leaned back and smiled. “I'm glad.” She took a deep breath. “Have you got somewhere to stay for the night?”

He shook his head. “No, I came here straight from the airport and left in such a haste I didn't make any arrangements.” He sighed. “I suppose all the good rooms are taken.”

She giggled. “Probably, but if you'd like, this sofa is a pull-out. You can stay here. With me.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Tom answered. They stood up and threw the cushions into the corner and Tom pulled the mattress out while Meg raided the linen closet for some sheets, pillows and spare blankets. When she returned, they set everything up, kicked their shoes off and climbed up, cuddling together. “Right, where were we then?” Tom asked before answering himself. “Yes, Casablanca.” 

***

 

It was the sound of the horn outside that woke Meg up, its blaring insistance screaming through the window. It took her a moment to realize that she wasn't in her own bed but rather still in the living room on the pull-out with Tom. His hand was rested on her waist, his knees pressed against the back of her legs, his breath warm and steady on the back of her neck. She snuggled closer to him, pulling his arm around her and felt him stir. “Good morning,” she smiled.

“Good morning, Darling,” he said sleepily. “What time is it?”

Meg reached to grab her phone from the end table. “Ten,” she answered. “Dani's already gone to work.”

Tom chuckled. “I wonder how she managed to not wake us up.”

“Stealth,” Meg answered with a laugh. She felt Tom pull her, rolling her over on her back. “This is nice,” she purred as he reached up and stroked her face.

He watched her for a moment before his eyebrows furrowed. “Why is this different than before?” he asked, concerned.

Meg thought for a moment, then responded, “Before, I was so afraid that I could only feel fear.” She reached her hand up to cup his face. “Last night is the first time I've allowed myself to feel anything else. And it's because of you.” She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him over her, spreading her legs and feeling his weight cover her. Kissing him softly, she said, “You allowed me to feel again.”

Tom propped himself on his elbows and grinned. “Are you alright with this?”

“If I wasn't, I wouldn't be doing this,” she purred before pulling him into a passionate kiss. She slid her hands down his backside and into his jeans, grasping the bare skin there, kneading it.

He hissed, lowering himself down and hiking up her skirt as far as he could, brushing his fingertips against her hip. “I don't want you to do anything you'll regret.”

“Last time was different,” she answered. “I promise, this time, I won't regret it.” She moved her hands around to the front between them, unfastening his jeans and pushing them down over his hips, feeling his hardness press against her mound. “Off with 'em,” she commanded with a smile.

Tom obliged, standing up and pulling his jeans off the rest of the way and peeling his shirt off as she removed her own clothing. “You're beautiful,” he gushed as he watched her.

Meg smiled and stood up. “Hold that thought,” she said as she scurried down the hallway into Dani's room. She returned with a small cellophane package in her hand and tossed it at him with a wink. Tom laid down on the mattress, opened the package and placed the latex on his tip, not expecting Meg's touch as she sat down beside him and gingerly unrolled it on him.

“You're very good with your hands,” he quipped.

“That's not all I'm good at,” she purred. She kissed his chest, softly trailing down over his stomach, teasing his sheathed cock with her tongue before climbing atop him, straddling him and lowering herself on top of him. She rocked her hips on him, taking him in his entirety with a soft mewl.

Tom's hands rose and cupped her breasts, his fingers rolling her already hardened nipples as he watched her slowly gyrate, her eyes closed, her face a masque of concentration. He let go and slid his hands along her thighs, resting them on her hips, pulling her into him each time she raised up. She moved more, her pleasure becoming more apparent and he raised his knees behind her. She leaned back against his legs as he moved one hand to her mound, delving his thumb into her folds finding her clit hard, the nerves twitching against him. 

Meg keened as he swirled his thumb, pressing it gently then increasing speed. Her entire body was an inferno, every fiber consumed with his scintillation as she writhed against him. At her apex, she dropped her hands to his chest, pumping into him, digging her nails into his flesh as rapture coursed through her. Her walls began to constrict around him and every muscle in her body seized in her frenzy. “Oh, God, Tom!” she screamed, her broken, breathless cry echoing through the apartment. “Tom!”

She rode out her pleasure and collapsed over him, her head rested on his shoulder as he continued to thrust. “My angel,” she heard him whisper. She kissed his neck and felt another wave begin to swell. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck, his tongue darting out to taste her. As she began to crest again, she arched her back, raising over him. Hungrily, he grasped one of her breasts and guided it towards his mouth. He flicked his tongue against it before suckling, teeth scraping gently against the sensitive flesh. His thrusts became more insistent, his cock slamming into her. He let out a moan, “Oh, damn,” muffled by her breast, as his own back arched, his climax coming in a rage, his tip reaching her innermost spot as her walls throttled him, milking him, feeling the warmth of his orgasm spurt into the latex.

When he was spent, he relaxed against the mattress, his arms around her. She could feel him begin to soften inside her. With a satisfied sigh, she smiled. “I love you,” she whispered, tears forming in her eyes again.

Tom reached up and wiped them away. “I love you, too,” he answered softly. “No regrets?”

Meg shook her head. “No. Only happy tears.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter has been a long time coming- I've been occupied with other things and not quite sure where to take this until now... hope you enjoy this one, even though it's a rather short chapter in the scale of things...

“Meg, it's nice to hear you're so upbeat,” Dr. Cramer smiled as she leaned against her desk. “Are you sure you want to discontinue your therapy?”

She took a deep breath and squeezed Tom's hand. He squeezed back and glanced sidelong at her. “Yes,” she answered, “I'm ready to take that step.”

“I hope you're not just doing this for me, Darling,” Tom said quietly.

Meg looked at him. “I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing it because of you. You're the one who's given me the courage to do it.”

Dr. Cramer stood more upright and walked across the room with Meg's file. “Now, you realize that just a few weeks ago, you were still having these attacks...” Her eyes drilled into Meg.

“Yes,” Meg nodded, “But there's been nothing in the last two weeks.”

“What will you do when Tom is gone?” Dr. Cramer asked. She had a valid question. Meg had been perfectly fine when Tom was around, but knowing that he was an actor and often away, she wondered just how much progress Meg had made.

“I'll deal.” Meg was feeling defensive. “I can manage, I think.”

“It's a legitimate question,” Tom said. “I know you said I'm your strength, but I couldn't bear to also be your weakness.” He leaned closer and kissed Meg's temple. “Please consider that, too, Darling.” His eyes were full of concern for her. “I love you too much to cause you any pain.”

“You wouldn't,” Meg scoffed. Looking at Dr. Cramer, she added, “Perhaps you would all feel better if I went out in public alone for a day.”

“It's not a bad idea,” Dr. Cramer agreed. “Of course, one of us should be nearby in case anything were to happen.”

“I think I would have Dani nearby then,” Meg suggested. “Tom wouldn't be able to leave me alone and Dani would be fully aware of my state of mind. She's been with me when I've lost it before.”

“I can see you've really thought this through.” The doctor wrote a note in Meg's file. “Dani it is.”

The next day, Meg went out for he first time alone, with the exception of Dani following behind at a safe distance. They had decided on a signal, a wave of Meg's hand, in case she became overwhelmed. If she was able to get through the day, she would be able to successfully be able to stop her therapy, with the exception of once a month phone conferences with Dr. Cramer. She had chosen to spend the day at the most crowded place she could think of, Pike Place Market. It was a Saturday, so it promised to be exceptionally busy, and it was. 

“Now, if you start feeling anxious at all, give me the sign,” Dani instructed as Meg drew her breath in. 

Meg nodded. “Yeah. I will.” She had not been in a crowd this large for years and it seemed daunting. Her hand tucked into her pocket and rubbed along the fabric of the tiny worry doll Tom had picked up for her at an import store. She stepped tentatively into the swirling bustle of the crowd, taking the time to pick her way through until she reached the other side. She cast a glance at Dani and nodded with a nervous smile before turning her attention back to the wares being sold in front of her. She eyed them, taking a deep breath before moving along. She was aware of Dani on the peripherals as she muddled through. At one point, she was nearly knocked over by a barrel-chested man as he pushed his way through the crowd, but she held her ground. Gritting her teeth, she waded deeper into the bowels of the market, creating an invisible bubble around herself, breathing deeply whenever she felt smothered. It was enough to keep her from feeling like she was stuck in a vice, but she began to feel the air leak out of her lungs and she needed to escape the crowd, even for a moment. She bounded down the stairs, over which loomed the sign “Down Under,” and ducked into the first shop she found that was relatively empty. She breathed a sigh of relief as she leaned against the doorframe, turning around to see which shop she had landed in only when she realized that, in her haste, she had left Dani behind.

“Can I help you find something in particular?” a kind old man asked from behind the counter. He had thin grayed hair combed over the bald spot on his head, wire-rimmed glasses that sat at the end of his nose, and jolly green eyes that watched her with great interest. “Perhaps something in the romance section?”

Meg had managed to escape into the most likely of places, one of the Market's many bookstores. She glanced around and smiled tiredly. “No, I'm just browsing,” she answered, hoping it would assuage his curiosity enough for her to get her bearings.

He rose from his seat and towered over the books that were stacked in front of him. “You know,” he observed, “It almost looks like you were using my store as a handy escape. Is it from a someone or a something?”

As Meg perused the nearest shelf, she glanced back. “The crowd,” she responded, slightly annoyed. “I can't handle the crowd.”

“Agoraphobia,” he replied, “Fear of crowds and public spaces. I remember it well.”

That got her attention. “Remember?” she gasped. “How did you get over it?”

“Well,” he smiled mischievously, “I imagined that I was in a bee colony. Any time someone got close to me, I would buzz at them and they would move.”

Meg rolled her eyes. “Didn't they think you were weird?”

He shrugged. “That's why I was in the asylum for so long.”

“Well, thanks and nice talking to you,” she said abruptly, ducking back into the crowd. She ran into Dani.

“Is everything alright, still?” Dani asked. “I want to make sure before I let you leave.”

Meg nodded. “I'm fine, but that guy in there,” she hiked her thumb towards the book store, “Isn't so good. He just told me he was in an asylum.” 

Dani let out a giggle and then a snort. “That's priceless. Did he say what for?”

“Pretending to be a bee,” Meg chuckled. She had failed to see the humor in the situation due to her own predicament, but, now that Dani was there to laugh with, she broke out in peals of laughter. “Can you believe that?” She stopped laughing and gasped for air.

“My sides hurt,” Dani chortled. “Let's continue with your little experiment. Are you ready to go back into the whirlpool?”

Meg reached into her pocket and ran her thumb across the worry doll, closing her eyes and seeing Tom's face there. “Yes,” she answered decisively, “Let's go.” She took a deep breath and plunged into the river of people again, following the stream of them as they climbed an incline back up to the top level. This time, she paid no mind to the booths, she concentrated only on herself, on seeing Tom's face in the crowd and laughing to herself about how, given his height, he would tower noticeably over the heads of the Japanese tourist group in front of her. She even stopped to listen to a busker that was stationed next to the Market Pig, leaving a couple dollars in his guitar case when he finished a particularly emotional rendition of “Blackbird.” 

She felt like she had climbed Mount Everest and conquered it as she delved deeper in once again. She slid easily between people as they shuffled along, surging with her newfound confidence, until she saw him. The face looming at the perimeter was not a friendly one, nor was it one she cared to ever see again. His hair was shorn shorter than it had ever been before and he looked like he had gained quite a bit of muscle, but she recognized him. He was coming towards her, his face contorted in an evil grin. “Jason,” she gasped, throwing her hand in the air, her distress signal, as her breath completely left her. “No! You're supposed to be in prison!”

The world was spinning and going dark. She thought she heard Tom yell from somewhere in the crowd before she completely blacked out, but she thought her mind was playing games with her. She wished to hear him, to have his voice soothe her and quell the demons, so she heard him.

When Meg came to, she was lying on her back on a gurney in an ambulance, Dani on one side and Tom on the other, next to a paramedic. He had a black eye and was holding a wad of gauze over his nose to staunch the blood that flowed through it. “Tom?” she said blearily. “What are you doing here?”

“I Dani told me about what you were doing today and I wanted to be there,” he sighed, “In case anything happened.”

She reached out to grasp his hand. “But I can't count on you always being there to help me with my anxiety,” she protested.

He smiled at her, wincing at the pain. “I plan on always being there for you,” he answered. Meg reached up to cup his face and discovered a hidden bruise, making him flinch.

From the other side of the cab, Dani chuckled, “You should see the other guy.”

Meg's head hurt and she closed her eyes. Other guy. The other guy. Scenes ran through her head and she tried to pull them apart, weeding the benign ones from her memory. She saw the visage of the busker as it melted away, then the crowd, then Him. “Jason,” she gasped, her chest tightening again. She coughed. “Jason was there.” Her eyes shot over to Dani.

“He was,” Dani answered, solemnly. “Tom intercepted him as he approached you and tried to hold him off. Jason threw a few punches, landed a couple of them before Tom popped him a good one. Then the cops came.”

Meg's eyes shot to Tom's right hand. His knuckles were swollen and raw. “I'm so sorry,” she said, her voice full of worry, “Your film! You're supposed to be in Vancouver in three days.” Her face settled into an upset pout.

“Don't worry about it, Darling,” he crooned, leaning in closer to her, “I'm sure the director will understand my being chivalrous.” He winked at her and kissed her temple gently. “Besides, I'll be in make-up.”

“Who's the director?” she asked, her curiosity piqued. “I guess someone you've worked with before?”

Tom's eyes narrowed and he smiled devilishly. “Oh, he's a real hard-ass, but he'll understand.”

“Kenneth?” she plied. Tom shook his head. “Not Joss...” another shake. “Who, then?”

He burst into pained laughter, his “Ehehehe” filling the cabin. “I am...” he huffed in between fits of laughter. “I'm the director.”

Meg was stunned for a moment. “No, you?”

Nodding, he stopped laughing and held his side, closing his eyes as a bolt of pain shot through his ribs. “It's nothing huge, but I got the opportunity and jumped on. It's something I've always wanted to try.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” She asked. 

“It's nothing,” he scoffed. “Two-bit indie film. Probably go straight to video.”

Meg tried to sit up, but the paramedic held her back. “I'm sorry, but you need to stay down,” she warned.

“It's really nothing huge,” Tom shrugged again.

Meg's face fell. “It is to me,” she answered. “Why didn't you tell me?”

He grasped her hand and brought it to his lips. “I didn't think it was important enough,” he repeated softly. “I'm sorry, Darling. I'm sorry.” His eyes began to cloud with tears. “Forgive me for not telling you.”

She took a deep breath. “There's really nothing to forgive, Tom,” she replied. “You weren't obligated to tell me. I thought it was something important to you.” She leaned her head back into the pillow and closed her eyes.

Tom leaned down and kissed her eyelid. “Come with me to Vancouver,” he whispered.


	11. Chapter 11

“Miss, do you intend on pressing charges?” the officer asked again.

Meg's attention was plucked from the clouds of her own thoughts. “Yes,” she answered, looking up at him from her hospital bed. “He violated the non-contact order and...” she couldn't continue before bursting into tears.

“Darling, you don't have to do this now,” whispered Tom as he leaned close to her and squeezed her hand. “He's in jail, again.”

“But I do,” she argued. Sitting up a little more, her head still throbbing, she turned an angry glare towards the officer. “How the hell did he get out?” she gnarled.

The officer looked at her apathetically. “Honestly, I don't know at the moment,” he answered. “Maybe he got out because his sentence was up?” 

“Hmph,” she grunted as she laid her head back down. “He was found guilty of attempted murder. He got a ten year sentence and it sure as Hell hasn't been ten years.”

“I'll look into it.” He wrote something in a ratty notebook that he pulled from his pocket, shoving it back in when he was done. “In the mean time, you need your rest.” He exited the room, leaving Meg and Tom alone.

“I don't know what I would have done if it wasn't for you,” she sighed, her hand reaching up to caress Tom's black eye. “I'm sorry you got hurt.”

Tom cupped his hand over hers. “It's not that bad,” he chuckled, pointing to a scar on his forehead. “I've sustained worse injuries from doors.” His eyes told her that everything was going to be alright, but his smile was one of nervousness. “Will you come with me?” he asked.

“To Vancouver?” she replied. “I don't have a passport. I don't have the time to get one before you leave, either, do I?”

“Don't you worry about that,” he chuckled. “We can get that enhanced license for you.”

“You've done your research,” Meg smiled. “I think that would work.” She wanted to stay with him like that forever. “But what if I have to go to court for this thing?”

He shook his head and pursed his lips. “I guess we'll have to make a trek down. I'm pretty sure Dani wouldn't mind, nor would your sister.”

“You're right,” she answered as he leaned in closer and kissed her. His lips swept gently over hers, his touch delicate, like she was made of thin silk. She slid her hand around to the nape of his neck and pulled him in closer. “You're not going to hurt me,” she whispered in between kisses. 

Tom's answer was a throaty groan as he pressed into her more. His hands slid down her sides and pulled her closer. “I wish they'd release you,” he said. 

“Me, too.”

*

Meg was released from the hospital two days later, her woulds tended, though still sore. Tom picked her up, sharing the task with Dani, who insisted on driving, When they arrived, they were both howling with laughter. “You two look thick as thieves,” Meg commented as she was rolled in a wheelchair towards the exit. “What's up?”

“Nothing,” Dani snorted. “It's just that I never thought in a million years that I would be best friends with the woman that is dating this man and, well, you should have seen what happened when we left this morning!” She burst into a fit of laughter and nearly doubled over.

Tom was able to stifle his own amusement for a moment as Meg looked at him with her eyebrow cocked. “We've been made,” he said, nearly coughing.

“What the hell are you two talking about?” Meg huffed. She thrust out a fake pouty lip as she leaned back in her wheelchair. 

“The press,” Tom replied. “We had a little paparazzi moment back at your apartment. Apparently, someone tipped them off that I was there and now the press thinks that we're a thing...” He shrugged and sighed, rolling his eyes at Dani as she burst into laughter again. 

“Imagine that!” she giggled. 

Meg smiled politely. “It must be a 'you had to be there' moment, because I'm not finding any of this funny,” she said wryly.

Dani stopped laughing and Tom's face turned serious. “Darling, I'm sorry,” he said softly as he helped her stand from the chair. “We just thought it was amusing. There's just so much conjecture that it was hilarious that they thought Dani and I were a couple. She's very much not my type.”

“That's okay, Tom, you're not mine, either,” she winked. When she saw the confused look on Meg's face, she sighed. “Now, Meg, you know you are my nearest and dearest and we've been friends forever, hell, I think of you as my sister from another mother, but hell, you've never noticed.” 

“Noticed what?” Meg asked as she sat down in the passenger seat of Tom's rented Jeep.

As Dani and Tom both got into the car on the other side, Dani continued. “This man you have,” she said, “is quite the observant one. And very astute.”

“Aw, thanks,” Tom gushed as he turned the car on.

Dani cleared her throat and looked at him, slightly annoyed. “Anyway, he was watching me when we were in the ambulance and I had an obvious attraction to the paramedic.”

“So, you like girls?” Meg asked. “Is that what you're telling me? Dani, dearest, I've known that since we were eleven at summer camp.” She shrugged. “I just never made a big deal about it because it seemed as natural as my attraction to the boys, which, by the way, you've never made a big deal about, either, until this one.” She hiked a thumb in Tom's direction.

“You have?” Dani seemed incredulous. “I didn't think it was that obvious.”

“Oh, you're pretty obvious when you flirt,” Meg grinned and nodded her head. “Like with the bartender at The Octopus.”

Dani seemed speechless and the car was silent for a moment broken only by Tom's signature “Ehehehe.” “You should look up the pictures,” he laughed. “I think they posted them on TMZ.”

Meg pulled out her phone, but Dani had hers out first. She handed it to Meg over the seat. “These are freaking hilarious!” she laughed. There was a photo of the two of them emerging from the apartment, Tom's arm draped over her shoulder, holding her jacket up as she adjusted her purse, then one where they noticed the photographer and looked like they'd been caught red-handed, followed by a third one where, obviously trying to make a spectacle of herself, Dani had approached a photographer, smiled fakily and adjusted her ample bosom with Tom waving cordially behind her, and finally, one with him helping her into the Jeep. “I wanted to put on a show, but he didn't think I should,” she huffed.

“I didn't want to exacerbate the situation,” Tom replied calmly. “If you treat them like they don't need to be there, they'll leave you alone.” His voice was even, but his knuckles whitening as he gripped the steering wheel told an entirely different story. Meg got the feeling that they had stumbled upon a sore subject for him. He turned to glance at Meg and his demeanor had changed from the smiling, joking guy to one who was entirely serious. “Darling, I think we may need to stay in a hotel.”

“How long?” Meg closed her eyes and waited for his reply. Thinking a second, she added, “They didn't follow you, did they?”

He put a hand on her knee. “Until we leave for Vancouver,” he answered. “I'm sorry. I didn't intend on this happening. Not to you. Not now. And, no, we weren't followed, thanks to some pretty impressive evasive maneuvers from Dani.”

When she opened her eyes and looked at him, he was concentrating on the road and navigating the traffic through Capital Hill. “It would have happened, eventually,” she reasoned. “You couldn't have known.” She put her hand on top of his and squeezed. “How did the press get wind of you being here, anyway?”

Tom shrugged. “My altercation with Jason took place in a very public arena,” he answered. “There was bound to be someone there that saw me get into it with him.” He paused for a moment. “Dani, do you still have the photos bookmarked from The Market?”

Dani looked up from her phone. “Yeah,” she answered as she tapped a couple times and handed the phone up to Meg. “Check it out.”

Meg grabbed the phone from her again. The first photo was of Tom lurking behind a column, Meg in the distance. It must have been taken right before Jason saw her. She was concentrating on the items in the stall in front of her, a leather goods stand. In the second, Tom had turned to wave at Dani, who was in the distance waving back. The third was one of Tom from the opposite side, his face concerned, his eyes drawn to where Meg was. Meg guessed that was the moment she saw Jason. The next one was Tom's whole six foot two form taking on an entirely different transformation as he yelled and jumped towards Jason's hulking form. Then there was a photo of him holding Jason's shirt, a photo of Jason punching Tom to get him away and the last photo was one of Tom giving Jason a good left-hook before Jason dropped to the ground. They were taken from all vantage points, so there must have been more than one person who recognized him. As Meg was about to hand the phone back, Dani said, “Wait, there's one more. Click on the 'Next' button.” Meg followed her instructions and saw the last photo, one of Tom on the ground, bloodied and teary-eyed, holding her still form cradled in his arms. She handed the phone back to Dani.

“Oh, Tom,” she gushed. She couldn't think of anything else to say.

He looked at her sidelong and smiled softly. “I wouldn't have had it any other way,” he said. “But I intend to protect you, no matter what.” He navigated the car through downtown and towards the waterfront. “I hope you don't mind, but the Edgewater was recommended to me as a pretty good place to stay when you're on the lam from the press.”

“Mind?” Meg answered. “I've always wondered what it looked like from the inside.” Her parents had been married in a ballroom there and had spent their entire honeymoon weekend there and she had heard stories about it as she was growing up, but she had never been there herself. “I've heard there's a Beatles Suite.”

Tom grinned. “Yes there is, but, sadly, on such short notice it has already been booked.” He pulled the jeep into the driveway in front of the hotel doors and put it in park. “Now, Dani,” he said, turning towards the back seat. “Remember the plan.” He winked at her again.

Dani grinned at him. “Yes, sir!” she nearly yelled. “Take this back to the rental company, take the bus back home, get some clothes for Meg, drive back here and give them to you.” She stopped for a moment, then asked, “Wait, what room will you be in?” 

“We'll book it under Crash Davis,” Meg answered, getting there before Tom did.

Dani laughed at seeing Tom so impressively stunned. “Crash Davis, gotcha,”she replied, clicking her tongue. 

Tom got out of the car and handed Dani the keys as she opened her door, then he made his way to the passenger side to help Meg out. They watched, arms around each other, as Dani drove away in the Jeep. “Well, this will be a new adventure,” he commented as they made their way into the hotel lobby. “I'd like a room,” he told the receptionist. “Book it under the name Crash Davis.”

Meg absorbed the surroundings like she was committing them to memory. It was huge, a lodge-styled room that had a stone fireplace as the main focal point, everything wooden and rich, chairs built out of logs and antlers. “It's gorgeous,” she gasped as Tom appeared at her elbow.

He chuckled. “We're all checked in, Mrs. Davis,” he said.

“What?” she questioned, then remembered. “Well, alright, Mr. Davis.” She grasped his arm and followed him to the elevator. They stepped inside and he pushed the button for the fifth floor. They were the only ones in the elevator and, once the doors had closed, she slid her arms around his waist. She looked up at him, her eyes full of love. “Thank you,” she said softly.

Tom wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. “For what?” he asked.

“For loving me,” she answered. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.

As soon as her lips left his, Tom responded with, “You're welcome.” He gathered her even closer, pulling her into him and kissed her back, his lips opening slightly, his tongue plying hers open with a tentative flick. As she acquiesced, their tongues found each other and danced as the butterflies in her stomach began fluttering. But it was a happy flutter, one that didn't indicate panic, but flutters of expectation.

When the elevator stopped, Tom led her down the hallway and then opened the door to a posh suite overlooking the Sound. “It's beautiful!” she gushed as the door swung all the way open. Her breath was caught as Tom reached down and swept her off her feet to carry her in. “You don't have to carry me in,” she protested.

“Oh, but I do,” he answered, kicking the door shut with his heel as they cleared it. He laid her down gently on a huge bed that was covered with a gold and red duvet and a pile of pillows before covering her with himself, spreading kisses along her neck and collarbone, nibbles on her earlobes and finally landing on her lips. 

Each touch made her gasp and sigh in delight. “That's only for bride and grooms,” she said between kisses.

“My mistake,” he said, his laugh shaking her and the whole bed. “But we can still have this, can't we?” He resumed kissing her, his hands moving along her sides to hike up the skirt she wore.

Meg leaned her head back and let out a soft moan as his fingers found the elastic band of her panties and pulled them down, then slid between them to find her sex, caressing softly over her, avoiding her folds and the throbbing nub contained within. In response, she reached to his slacks and wrestled them open, releasing his cock into her hands. “I see you've gone commando,” she laughed.

“Less work,” he growled, lifting up his hips so she could slide his slacks down as he ripped her panties, pulling them off of her thighs. 

“Were you anticipating this?” she asked, flashing doe eyes at him.

He shrugged. “Maybe a little, but not like this.” He slid his hands up her t-shirt and helped her pull it over her head, baring her breasts. “Besides, I see someone else is a little bare.” He snickered as he kissed one of her bare nipples making it harden.

“I didn't want to deal with it in the hospital,” she defended. “Not that it's a bad thing.” 

“No, it's not.” Tom agreed. He stood up and yanked her skirt down her legs, and off her feet, tossing it on the floor, before pulling his own t-shirt off over his head with one fluid motion. With an eyebrow wiggle and wave of his fingers, he lunged for her, barely missing her as she squealed and slid back on the bed in a fit of giggles. He caught up with her and pinned her to the bed, growling, “Now, you're mine.”

To his surprise, she playfully licked the tip of his nose before kissing him. He responded by using his knee to nudge her legs apart and pressing down on her, positioning his hardening cock at her entrance. “I'll teach you to play with me,” he whispered.

“Please do,” she answered, raising her hips up into him, feeling his tip slip between her folds and pressing against her clit, shooting a bolt of electricity through her, eliciting a mewl from her.

His lips were upon her again, kissing, nibbling her neck, making goosebumps form along her flesh. He arched his back and thrust into her slowly, letting her adjust to him. He smiled hearing the soft keen of her voice. Gently, he pushed more, feeling her rise to him. Her hands danced along his back and came to rest on the curves of his ass, staying there until he was very nearly fully seated with her, then pressing gently as though to tell him to fill her completely. He obliged, burying himself in her entirely and resting there a moment before withdrawing and then repeating it again.

Meg closed her eyes, her even breath transforming to sighs, then catching as they turned to moans while he moved inside her. Each synapse felt electrified and as he touched her and kissed her and fucked her, she felt herself slipping away, becoming ethereal, floating as she felt more electric, until she reached her apex. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, leaving little crescent moons in them, as she writhed against him. Her moans gave way to screams of ecstasy as her entire being exploded. “Oh, Tom! Tom!” was all she could say, punctuated with, “Ohhhhhhhh... Yes!”

He smiled at her pleasure, riding into his own as he felt her walls constrict around him, massaging his cock, making the ache of his much-needed release come to a head as he spilled into her with a long, drawn out groan. He slowed his movements, feeling her slow down as well, and laid his head on her shoulder, holding himself up only with his elbows, feeling the sheen of sweat that had formed between them. “I love you,” he whispered as he kissed her cheek.

“I love you, too,” she answered as he slid from her and rolled beside her onto the bed. 

He wrapped her in his arms. “This is perfect,” he smiled.

Meg was about to agree with him when there was a knock on the door. From the opposite side, the bellhop called, “I have your luggage, Mr. Davis.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was a bit in coming... I struggled with where I wanted to get it to go.

They spent the next week holed up in the hotel, with only a couple excursions, heavily in disguise, to get the enhanced identification card Meg needed, and to sight-see along the waterfront. Meg had never been happier. She had had no more surprise contact with Jason and knew that, if she did, Tom would be there with her. She no longer felt frightened and alone.

When the day came for them to leave for Vancouver, Tom suggested they drive, rather than take a plane, so they did. The rental car company sent them another Prius, which was barely big enough for their luggage. They laughed as they shoved their bags into the back seat. “At least we won't spend much on gas,” Tom grinned as they got in the car. Meg just beamed at him.

As they drove, they chatted about the surroundings, Meg giving Tom a mini tour as they passed through Everett, pointing out the old mortuary-come-office-building, promising to show him Rucker's Tomb when they were in the area again. He was astounded by the views as they drove through the valley, the clear skies giving him optimal views of snow-covered mountain tops. “This is just breathtaking,” he exclaimed as he appreciated the vista.

“I'll have to take you hiking, one of these days,” Meg promised. “I think you'd love the Ice Caves.”

“What?” he asked, cocking his eyebrow at her. “Ice caves?”

Taking a deep breath, Meg explained, “They're glacial caves made by ice sliding down the mountain and then snow melting at the top, making a waterfall that carves out the inside.” He seemed satisfied with her explanation.

“I'd like to see those sometime,” he nodded. “I don't think I've seen anything quite like that. Can you go inside?”

Meg shook her head. “It's too dangerous. There have been a few really dumb people killed by going too far in and getting crushed by avalanches.”

Tom shivered. “Never mind, then,” he sighed. “What else would you like to show me in this lovely area of yours?”

“How about we plan these when we come to them,” Meg suggested. Truthfully, the ride was already making her tired. She wasn't used to being in a car for as long as they were already and there was a good two hour drive to go before they reached the border. She leaned her head against the window and drifted off to the music Tom was playing on the stereo.

Meg woke up when they reached the Peace Arch. “Wake up sleepy-head,” Tom grinned as he guided the car to a stop. “Last bathroom break before we cross into Canada.”

Stretching, Meg let out a yawn. “Good. I've got to stretch my legs a bit,” she groaned. She opened the door and stepped out. Tom managed to get out and to her side before she stood up and helped her out of the car. “Thanks,” she said as she wrapped her arm around his waist. “I'll be right back.” She let go of him and walked across the parking lot to the public bathroom. 

As Meg exited the building, she saw a group of people gathered around Tom. He was chatting with them and signing autographs, taking selfies with them, completely in his element. Sometimes, she forgot that he was actually famous because he was hers. She hovered on the perimeter of the group, waiting for a moment when she could slide in between them and join him. As she spied an opportunity, she took a deep breath and slid into the pack, hoping she had enough of a bubble up to evade the inevitable panic attack. Someone elbowed her in the ribs and she lost her breath. “Hey, wait your turn, I get him first,” a snide voice hissed in her ear. 

She began to feel everything closing in on her and glanced over her shoulder at where the voice had come from. A young woman who looked more like she was in her late teens, dressed in a low-cut top and skinny jeans, winged eyeliner and red lipstick sneered at her. “No,” Meg managed to say. “You don;t understand.”

“You don't,” the girl spat back. “He and I are meant to be.” 

Meg looked at her like she was crazy and tried to turn back towards Tom only to feel a hand on her back grasping her shirt, pulling her out of the crowd and hurling her to the ground. “I said, it's not your turn, bitch!” the girl yelled. 

Curling into a fetal position on the ground, Meg began to shake. She had never had anything of this sort happen before and her gut reaction was to shut down. She gathered her knees in tighter and squeezed her eyes shut. A noise began around her, sharp, shrill, enveloping. She tried to shut it out but she realized it was coming from deep in her own chest. She was screaming.

Tom had been oblivious to the whole scene until he heard Meg shriek. He stood bolt upright and looked around the crowd, trying to find her. “Where is she?” he asked, his voice full of concern. “Meg? Where are you?”

Another fan, a boy there with his older sister, yelled, “I think she's over here.” Tom followed his voice and the crowd broke, making way for him to get to Meg.

He knelt down to her and gathered her in his arms. She was still screaming, but as he held her, it subsided into broken sobs. “Oh, Darling, what happened?” he cooed. Looking up from her with an accusing eye to the crowd, he demanded, “Who did this?”

The girl that had accosted Meg stood forward. “She was trying to cut and ignored me when I asked her to move,” she explained. 

Tom's demeanor darkened. “That is completely unacceptable,” he roared. “To treat another fan this way is truly abhorrent, but this is not just another fan.” He grasped Meg's hand and pulled her to her feet, keeping his arms around her, bracing her against his body. “This is the woman I love.”

There was a rumble amongst the people in the crowd and the girl's jaw dropped. “I had no idea...” she stuttered.

“I see it all too clearly, now,” Tom said as he looked at Meg. “I've been far too quiet about this.” He leaned down and kissed Meg softly. She opened her eyes and smiled weakly at him. “Meg,” he said, “I'm so sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” she responded, her voice scratchy from emotion.

He helped her back through the crowd and sat her down on the passenger seat of the car. “I do,” he replied, making his voice low enough that the crowd couldn't hear him. “I've been so concerned about the effect you would have on my career that I didn't stop to think of the effect my career would have on you.” He knelt down next to her and ran a finger along the side of her face. “I love you, but I don't want this to hurt you.”

“You're not hurting me, Tom,” she answered, leaning into him. “I can take your career.”

He sighed. “But, if it wasn't for me wanting to protect you and keep you a secret, none of this would have happened.”

Meg could tell he felt guilty, perhaps moreso than he had when she'd been accosted by Jason, because, this time, he'd had no way of helping her. “It was inevitable.” She kissed him gently. “And I'm far from secret, now.”

“That's right,” he chuckled. “Oh, God, Luke's gonna kill me.” He buried his face in her shoulder. “He warned me something like this would happen and I ignored him.”

“Well,” she shrugged, “Luke isn't in charge of our relationship.” 

Tom lifted his head and smiled. “You're right, he's not,” he said. “Can you stand?” When she nodded, he helped her back up. As they reached their feet, he scanned the crowd for someone with a smart phone out. “You, there,” he pointed.

The girl with the phone mouthed, “Me?” and her eyes widened when Tom nodded.

“Come over here, please,” he commanded gently. Once she was next to him, he asked, “Would you please photograph this moment?”

Meg was as confused as the fan was. “Tom, what's going on?” she asked as she clung to his arm. She cast a worried glance up to him.

Tom responded with a sly smile and a little chuckle. His eyes were tender as he gazed at her. “Do you trust me, Love?”

“You know I do, with my life,” she responded.

“Good,” he whispered as he leaned down. “That's what I was hoping to hear.”

The crowd pressed in upon them, silent and waiting for whatever was going to happen. Meg was sure she could hear a bird in the trees behind them, it was so quiet. Tom grasped both of her hands and stood tall. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Tom announced, projecting his voice over the crowd, “I would love for you to all meet the most important woman in my life right now, Meg.” He brought Meg forward a little. “We have been together for a little while now, and I would appreciate if you would allow us our privacy.”

The girl with the cell phone took some photos as he addressed the crowd as well as some follow-up photos of Tom embracing Meg and kissing her. She clicked furiously as Tom loosened his grasp of Meg and dropped to his knees in front of her.

Meg was dumbfounded. “Tom,” she giggled, “What are you doing?”

He waggled his eyebrows at her and his signature “Ehehehe” escaped his lips. “Trust me, Darling,” he said.

She sucked in her breath as he kissed the back of her hands, the breath coming out hot against her cold lips. She rolled her eyes as he reached into the inside pocket of his puffy black jacket. His hand brought out something small, hidden in his palm. “Tom?” she said when she saw how serious he had gotten. “Is everything alright?”

“It couldn't be better,” he smiled tenderly as he looked back up at her. He took a deep breath, almost like he was trying to psyche himself into something. “Meg,” he began, “I was hoping to wait until we finished filming and do this so much more romantically for you...” his voice trailed off as tears began to well in his eyes. “But,” he continued, “I feel that not only is this necessary now, perfectly appropriate now, but also because I can't wait.” He held his hand up and opened it, revealing a diamond ring in his palm. “Meg, would you give me the pleasure of being my wife?”

Meg felt like she'd had a blow to the chest, her breath completely gone. Her eyes stung from tears that welled up. She hadn't seen this proposal coming at all and it threw her for a loop. “Tom... I....” she stuttered.

His face fell. “It's too soon, isn't it?” he asked, crestfallen. “I jumped the gun, didn't I?” Without giving her a moment to respond, he closed his hand and berated himself. “Great job, Tom,” he said under his breath. “Way to go, you just ruined the best thing you ever had because you're a desperate idiot.”

“Tom, stop,” Meg breathed out as he began to stand. “Stop.”

He halted, frozen in his movements and looked up at her. “I...I love you and I don't want to lose you.”

“Yes,” she said, her voice full of tears. “Yes, I'll marry you.”

The tears spilled out of his eyes. “You will?” he asked incredulously, opening his hand and looking at the ring, then back up at her.

She picked the ring up from his hand and slid it on her finger. “You are my rock. Of course I will.”

Forgetting about the girl he recruited to take photos, Tom leaned close and grasped Meg's face, kissing her passionately.

“Um, excuse me, Mr. Hiddleston?” the girl with the phone said when they were done. “Do you want me to send the photos to you?”

Tom chuckled and gave her an email address. “Send these to my agent.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about taking so long with this. This chapter was a difficult one to write.

“Sorry, Luke,” she could hear Tom saying into the phone as she woke up. He was sitting on the edge of the bed in their hotel room. “Yeah, I get it... but...” It sounded like he was barely getting a word in edgewise and he was getting frustrated. Finally, he blew up. “For fuck sake, I am in love with her. Fuck my career, fuck my image, and fuck you!” he yelled into the phone.

Meg rolled closer to him and slid her hand over his hip. “Is everything alright?” she asked sleepily.

Tom turned towards her and smiled weakly. “Yeah, it's just us, we have got everyone in a tizzy.”

Worried, Meg sighed, “Do you want to take it back?” She tried to keep the tears that were forming in the corners of her eyes at bay.

He laid down next to her and pulled her close, kissing her gently. “No,” he answered, “I don't.” His arm draped over her side. “You are the one I want. Only you.”

“I'm glad,” Meg replied. She sucked in her breath and closed her eyes, not wanting him to see how she had nearly been brought to tears. Her hand began to trace along his bare side, fingers tickling along the muscles.

“Hey, now,” he laughed. “I'm a bit sensitive there.” He squirmed, but it only brought him closer to her. With a mischievous grin, he began tickling her. “Ha! Got you back!” he said as she wiggled. He rolled on top of her, tickling her more until she was breathless and screaming beneath him. He held her, pinned to the bed and fighting for breath. “You know,” he panted, “There are better ways to go about getting in this position.”

Meg smiled at him. “I know there are.” She kissed his nose and winked at him, giving him a sly smile. “I only see one problem here.” Her eyes turned down, hinting to him.

“Oh, yeah,” he replied sheepishly, unwrapping the towel he'd had around his waist and tossing it on the floor. “Better?” He cocked his eyebrow at her.

“Much,” she grinned. She could feel his hardness pressed against her and she swiveled her hips, spreading her legs so his tip was against her entrance.

Tom leaned down, pressing her into the bed, his face next to hers and thrust into her with a slight moan. “You feel so good,” he hissed as he pulled his hips back, then snapped back into her. 

Meg arched her back, raising her breasts towards him, rolling her head back to give him access to her neck. He attacked it voraciously, his lips sliding across her skin, his teeth grazing over her collarbone, nibbling up her vein to her ear. “Mmmmmm,” she purred, the heat pooling in her nether regions. She was on fire with each stroke as his pubic bone pressed into her, inciting her clit, making the nerves quiver with each thrust. “Harder,” she rasped. He obliged, grinding into her, gyrating his hips, feeling her walls begin to constrict around him as she began to peak. Her moans became breathy keens, her sighs transformed into near-screams as she reached her apex. 

And then his cell phone rang, its noise a cacophonous disruption that took them both off guard. Tom stopped moving, pushed himself up on his elbows and grabbed the phone. When he heard Meg groan in disappointment, he apologized, “I'm sorry, Darling, that is the emergency ring. Luke only calls from that line if it's dire.”

“It better be a matter of life and death,” she grumbled under her breath, scowling at him.

“Hello?” Tom answered. The voice on the phone was most definitely Luke and most definitely angry. Meg couldn't make out any of the words, so she listened, catching only Tom's side of the conversation. “I already told you...” “Wait...” “Bloody hell!” “For fuck sake.”

She grew tired of waiting for him, but, pinned beneath him could do nothing else. Meg leaned up and began kissing his chest, flicking her tongue at his nipples. She heard him gasp softly and smiled to herself. Sliding her hands down his sides, she reached and grasped the globes of his ass, grinding her hips into him in the process. That earned her a sharp breath and a reproachful look, which she responded to with her own sly wink and licking her lips before continuing on. She ran her fingertips up his back scratching lightly, gyrating herself on him, feeling his cock twitch inside her. Her hips rose, then fell, claiming him. He reciprocated this time, pulling himself out, then slamming back into her silently, the rest of his attention on the phone call. 

Meg tried to stay silent, clamping her lips closed and breathing hard through her nose, but it was no use. She gasped and a whimper slipped out, eliciting a look of reproach from Tom. With a coy smile, she kissed his shoulder, but, soon enough, let out a soft whimper as she neared her peak once again. Her hips bucked against his and she was gone, her mouth open against his collarbone, her cries only muffled by him. 

“Pardon me, Luke,” Tom said into the phone. He hit the mute button and threw the phone on the bed next to him. “You minx,” he laughed as he drove into her, pistoning through her climax, feeling her constrict around him and finding his own release with it. He leaned down and kissed her deeply as he delved into her one last time. “I'm sorry,” he whispered. “Luke is insanely upset about the photos from yesterday. I really need to finish this call and calm him down.”

“Alright,” Meg nodded as he rolled from her, grabbed the phone and laid flat on his back, taking it off mute and continuing his conversation. She curled up next to him, her head on his chest, and turned the television on with the volume barely audible. It was on a station that showed the channel listings for the hotel, so she changed them until she found one that looked like a news cast. The reporters finished up with the weather and traffic reports before a bright “Breaking News” logo flashed across the screen. The scene that they showed looked oddly familiar and she tried to place it. Realization hit her like a speeding train. She tapped the remote against Tom's chest trying to get his attention. 

It took a moment before Tom realized why Meg was frantically tapping him and when he looked up at the television, his expression transformed from one of confusion to one of concern. “What the hell?” he said under his breath as the news cast unfolded. There, on the screen, was the front of their hotel, except instead of the tranquil facade they'd seen when they had arrived, it was embroiled in chaos, the front doors barricaded and the building surrounded by thousands of people who all seemed hell bent on getting in. “Turn the volume up,” Tom nudged Meg.

“Authorities are on their way to deal with this mob scene,” the on-scene reporter was saying, “There are reports that Tom Hiddleston, the British actor best known for his portrayal of Loki in the Marvel movies is inside with his fiancee. The two were engaged in an impromptu display yesterday following an altercation with fans.”

“Luke, I'll have to call you back,” Tom mumbled. He switched the phone off. “I haven't heard anything outside, have you?”

“No,” Meg answered, “But I'll check.” She stood and grabbed Tom's discarded towel from the floor, carefully wrapping herself with it before padding across the carpet to the window. Pulling back the drapes, she gulped, “It's happening.” She peered back outside.

Tom rushed to her side and glanced over her shoulder, making sure he was hidden behind her, but someone saw him and pointed excitedly at the window. “Oh, shit!” he exclaimed as he watched the crowd begin to mob the building directly under their window. 

The noise was an unintelligible din, muffled by the thick windows, but became a cacophonous roar when Meg pulled the window open just slightly. “Tom! Tom!” they screamed, some of them louder than others. “Please! Tom!”

Wryly, Meg backed away from the window. “Your public awaits.” She closed her eyes and leaned her shoulder against the wall.

“Darling,” he said quietly, “Believe me, I didn't want this.” He reached his hand up and laid it on the soft skin of her back right between her shoulder blades. He could already feel her anxiety rising. “I'm sorry.” 

She could feel tears beginning. “Tom,” she whispered, “I don't know that I can do this.” Turning to look at him, she could see his concern and it broke her heart. She didn't want him to have to give any of it up, but she knew that he would for her. “You love your fans, they love you,” she began to choke down the words she really wanted to say. “I love you, but I can't do this...”

Tom's eyes searched hers and saw the pain that floated there, just below the surface. He was afraid to ask what she meant, sure in his heart that he already knew what was coming. “Can't do what?” he asked, his own voice beginning to break, his eyes harboring tears.

Meg sniffled. “I can't marry you,” she finally cried, letting the dam burst and the tears flow. “I can't be with you. I'll ruin your career.” Before giving him a chance to refute, she turned and ran, grabbing her phone and a change of clothes that were laid out on top of the bureau. She locked herself into the bathroom.

Dumbfounded, Tom was frozen. He stood there, unable to do much more than breathing, and even that came in shallow bouts, caught in his chest, making him feel constricted. There was noise in the bathroom, Meg's voice, but he couldn't make out what she was saying. When he finally was able to move, he walked to the door and pressed his ear against it, trying to discern her words. There was silence. “Meg,” he said as he tapped on the door. “Please, darling, let's talk about this.”

There was no answer, instead, the noise of Meg shuffling around inside the room, then the sound of the water running in the shower. “I'd like to join you,” Tom joked, hoping for a response. There was none.

Tom sat down on the floor, his back against the door, knees up, head back. He closed his eyes and waited for her, hoping he could talk some sense into her. It seemed like hours since she had barricaded herself in, but in reality was only minutes. He was contemplating breaking down the door when she opened it. She was dressed in a pair of jeans and a blue hoodie, her feet in a pair of black Converse. Her hair was still wet, pulled into a high ponytail. As she walked past him, he caught a whiff of her body spray and breathed in deep. “Meg, please,” he said as he stood up.

Meg acted like he wasn't there, caught in her own thoughts as she repacked the suitcase that she had so carefully unpacked the night before. “The taxi will be here shortly,” she replied. 

“Meg, no,” he pleaded. “Don't leave like this.” He made his way to her and grasped her shoulders, spinning her around so she would look at him. “You aren't ruining my career.” 

Her eyes were rimmed red from crying, but they were cold, looking at him with as much love as she might a kitchen knife. “Tom, my mind is made,” she sighed. “If I stay, I'll just be in the way and you'll end up regretting me. I can't handle the crowd, I can't handle any of it.”

He scowled. “So, what? You're just going to go home and sit in your flat in your room with your drawings and your writing and avoid everything?” He was getting angry. “Do you really want to be alone that badly?” Withdrawing from her, he crossed his arms across his chest and waited for her to reply.

Feeling her own emotions boil over, she stood on her tiptoes and screamed, “I am fucked up, Tom! You don't want me, you want some girl that will smile at your fans and make nice with them, not one that already resents them.” She could feel the tears welling up again, feel the hot coal in the center of her chest grow as the bile rose in her throat. “Let me go,” she finally stood down and whimpered. 

There was a knock on the door and a voice from outside called, “I have a taxi here for a Meg?”

“Be there in a moment,” she answered as she picked her suitcase off the bureau, swinging it down to the floor with a thud. “I'm sorry, Tom.” Her voice cracked as she made her way to the door. She opened it, greeting the man outside with a fake smile before shooting a reproachful glance at Tom and closing the door.

Tom felt like throwing on a pair of pants and rushing after her, but he didn't. With a sigh, he went back to the window and peeked through the curtains, watching past the fans to the yellow taxi that waited just outside the crowd. Meg had pulled her hoodie up around her face to avoid recognition and get through the few people that blocked the door, but he recognized her. She gave one more glance at the hotel and, for a moment, he hoped she had changed her mind and would come running back to him, but she climbed inside the taxi instead. 

He stood there until the taxi drove away, then laid down on the bed. The pillow by his head still smelled like her. He rolled his head to the side and inhaled the scent of her, hoping it would help staunch the pain, but it didn't. He felt empty inside, like she had taken his entire core with her, and listless, not sure of what to do next because none of it now involved her. As the reality began to sink in, the burning pain of loss began to gnaw at him and he rolled over, burying his face in the pillow and soaking it with his tears.

The phone rang again. Tom sat up, looking at the clock on the nightstand, a hazy realization setting in that he had slept another three hours. He felt like he had a hangover, his head throbbing, his gut churning. “Hello?” he answered groggily. It was Luke. Immediately, he began berating Tom about how he had handled the proposal with Meg, that he had dozens of angry fans that felt like he was ignoring them. “I know,” Tom replied dryly. “And you don't have to worry about Meg. She left me. Are you happy now?”


	14. Chapter 14

Tom had dealt with the overzealous fans at the hotel by uncharacteristically ignoring them, not giving them a reason to be there, hoping they would go away. It wasn't that he didn't love and appreciate them, he did, he was not in the mood to see anyone. 

Filming wasn't set to begin for three days, three days that he had anticipated spending in Meg's arms, so he holed himself up, lying in bed, occasionally watching television, ordering room service when he was hungry. He even let all his calls go straight to voice mail. It wasn't until the third day, when Luke came storming into his hotel room, that he budged from his bed. “Tom!” Luke bellowed as he threw the door open, “What the Hell is going on? We thought you were dead, or something was seriously wrong with you.”

Sitting up in the bed, Tom blinked, bleary-eyed. “There is something seriously wrong,” he answered, “She left me.” He was calm, but his eyes gave away every emotion he had been feeling since she had gone, from the sadness, the rage, the denial. “She's gone.”

While Luke was, in fact, Tom's publicist, he was also his friend. Concerned, he sat down on the edge of the bed. “Fuck, Man, you look like death,” he exclaimed. “Did she say why?”

Tom rubbed his face in his hands and pulled them down slowly, stretching the skin of his face in a gruesome grimace. “It was the fans and the crowds,” he answered. “She couldn't handle it.”

“I hate to say I told you so,” Luke sighed as he patted Tom's shoulder, “But you should have known. A girl with her history, not marriage material. Hell, not even much girlfriend material.”

Tom glared at him, his eyes darkened. “Get out,” he demanded. “Don't you say anything bad towards Meg. She's the woman I love. Just get out.” He threw the covers off himself, revealing his bare legs, stood and towered over Luke. He pointed at the door and nodded solemnly.

Luke was shaken. Tom had never spoken to him like that before. “What...what,” he stuttered as he scrambled towards the door, “What do you want me to tell your fans?”

“You're the fucking publicist,” Tom growled, “Tell them what you'd like. Just leave Meg out of it.” He followed Luke to the door and slammed it shut once he had left.

The fans had abandoned the hotel stakeout by the end of the second day, convinced that, somehow, Tom had snuck out and changed venues, since no one had seen him leave or enter since the first day. He hadn't even appeared at the window, and hotel staff had taken the barricades down from the front door. It went back to business as usual. He was grateful for the silence, that it let him mourn in peace. Luke's visit had stirred everything up again. It seemed like certain confirmation that Tom was, indeed, still at the hotel and the fans began to gather once again.

Tom had begun to rarely check his Twitter, feeling it was detrimental to his well-being as he often received hateful messages. He was anxious to see what Luke had spun, what yarns he was feeding the public, so he logged in and clicked on Luke's account. There, in less than 140 characters, read, “@twhiddleston Engagement was a sham, confirmed by the actor himself.” He felt like responding, telling the truth, but he didn't, because that would have meant explaining everything else. Instead, he sighed and put his phone down.

Everything seemed worthless. His actions, his career, everything since she left. As much as he wanted to respect Meg's wishes, he was beginning to find that he couldn't. He wanted to call her, if only to hear the sweet cadence of her voice on her voicemail. But, he didn't call her, instead opting to make his way down to the hotel bar, scruffy-faced, pyjama bottomed, t-shirt clad, in hotel slippers that barely fit his feet.

“What can I get ya?” the burly bartender asked as he sat down at the far end. “You look like you need something strong.”

Tom nodded. “Whiskey, Jameson on the rocks, if you've got it,” he answered. “And I'll take the bottle.” He felt like drowning himself in the drink, downing the burning liquid until it numbed him completely, until he no longer felt the pain.

“Coming right up.” The bartender smiled at him and Tom wondered if he'd been recognized. Instead, as the man brought him his drink, he asked, “Is it money or women?” 

After taking the first sip, Tom set the glass down and pursed his lips. “Women,” he answered. “One in particular.”

“She cheat on you?” There wasn't anyone else in the bar at the moment and the bartender seemed especially eager to talk to someone, anyone. “That's the worst. I had an ex-wife who did that to me.”

Uncomfortably, Tom answered, “No, she left me.” He felt like being left alone to wallow in his sorrows and drink them away. He put his had down and stared into his lap.

Not taking the hint, the bartender commented, “Well, maybe she just saved you years of heartache.”

Looking back up, Tom's eyes shot daggers at the man. “She's not that kind of woman,” he growled. “Please, I don't need therapy from a barkeep.” With an understanding nod, he left Tom alone, wiping his way down to the other end of the bar to greet a newcomer. 

Tom didn't bother looking at who had entered, preferring to stare aimlessly into the cup in front of him. He sighed, picked it up, downed it, feeling the warmth of it as it went down his throat. Picking up the bottle the bartender had left, he filled the glass again. This time, there was no contemplation. He downed it with intent, feeling the sweet haze of inebriation as it began to drift over him. This was repeated again and again until, finally, he lifted his head and glanced at the fuzzy figure sitting opposite him at the bar. He raised his glass and smiled, “Cheers, mate!”

The person at the other end did likewise before asking, “Do you mind if I join you? One person drinking, that's downright alcoholism, but two, that's a party.”

Tom nodded. “Have at it,” he slurred. “Except I'm seeing the bottom of this bottle and when that happens, I'm done.” He picked up the Jameson bottle and held it up, nearly on its side, enough that a small bit of whiskey sloshed out and hit him on the arm.

“Fair enough.” The person stood from the barstool and began moving towards him. 

It was only as the figure got closer that Tom could make out the features of the woman who had shoved Meg. His happy drunk smile turned into a look of disgust. “Oh, it's you,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “If I had known it was you, I wouldn't have invited you over.” Normally, he would have been cordial with her, being one of his fans, graciously excusing himself. His mental state and level of inebriation prevented him from thinking straight. “You are one of the reasons she left.”

The woman smiled. “My name's Candace,” she introduced, not moving from her seat. “I see you are no longer attached.”

“How astute of you,” he sneered. He lifted the bottle to his lips and downed what was left as quickly as he could before slamming it back down on the counter. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I prefer to be alone.” Standing from his seat, he felt the world begin spinning, his head dizzy. He put his hand on the bar and began to back away. As he took a step away from the bar, his legs went out from under him and he fell, hitting his head against the corner.

There was a moment when he saw nothing, his entire world went black as his hand flew up to the pain on his forehead. He blinked and everything was black. With a groan, he closed his eyes and rested his head back on the floor. Taking a few deep breaths, he waited, listening to the commotion around him. When he finally opened his eyes, the girl was kneeling next to him, holding his free hand, crying into his palm. He felt cross-eyed, and felt like he was under water. “Oh, my darling, Tom,” he could hear her wailing. He tried to pull his hand from her, but it only served to pull him closer to him. Elated, she squealed, “You're alright!” before leaning close to give him a kiss. 

Tom opened his eyes wide and pulled away from her, but not before there had been a few camera flashes directed at them. “Get off me,” he grumbled, rolling to his side. “I am certainly not your darling.” Looking at the onlookers, he bellowed, “Anyone that photographed that, please delete it!”

Luke pushed his way through the crowd upon hearing Tom yell. He held his hand out. “Need help, Mate?” he asked. Tom nodded and grasped it, using Luke as ballast as he pulled himself up. “Now what's all this yelling about?”

Shaking his head, Tom glowered, “A supposed fan taking advantage of my situation.” He cocked his head towards Candace. “She's been a bit off since the mob scene the other day.”

Looking over at the girl who was giggling with a friend, Luke let out a frustrated harrumph. “I've got this,” he told Tom. He approached the girls and introduced himself. “Hello, ladies, my name is Luke Windsor.”

“We know who you are,” they said in unison. Then Candace added, “You're Tommy's publicist.”

Nodding, Luke replied, “Yes, I am. And in that respect, it is my job to keep tabs on his reputation. Now, I hear one of you has been giving him trouble.”

The friend looked alarmed and backed away, leaving Candace standing alone. She smiled guiltily and raised her hand meekly. “I guess that would be me, but I only kissed him once.”

Luke cocked his eyebrow and shot a look back to Tom who shook his head sternly. “I'm guessing it wasn't consensual?”

“I thought he would enjoy it,” she said softly. “After all, I'm in love with him.” She glanced over Luke's shoulder and gave Tom a sheepish smile and a wave. “I didn't mean anything bad by it.”

Luke put his hand up to his forehead and rubbed as he shook his head. “Tom...” he began, carefully choosing his words, “Tom is nursing a broken heart. Having an overzealous fan try something like that with him is probably the worst thing for him right now.”

Candace's eyes widened. “So it wasn't a sham?”

“No,” Luke shook his head. “He was in love with her, the proposal was real. She left him because she couldn't deal with the fans.”

“What a bitch,” she answered disdainfully.

With a sigh, Luke answered as he knew Tom would. “No, not a bitch at all.”

 

*

 

The moment Meg was in the taxi, she began to cry, tears washing her face in saline, her nose running. The driver offered her a tissue, but otherwise stayed silent until they got to the airport. With the little cash she had left, Meg paid him and went inside the terminal. She escaped to the most vacant corner and dialed Dani's number. “Sis,” she said as Dani picked up. “Can you do me a huge, huge favor?”

“Sure?” Dani answered apprehensively. “Something your dream man, Tom can't do? By the way, congratulations on the engagement. It's all over the internet.”

Meg sniffled. “I left him.” She felt all the air leave her lungs for a moment and tried to catch her breath. “I need you to wire me some money for a plane ticket home.”

Dani was silent for a moment. “You left him? I thought you loved him?” She was trying to make sense of what Meg had told her.

“It's a long story,” Meg sighed. “I'd rather not get into it right now. I just need to come home.”

“Alright,” Dani complied, “I'll call you as soon as I get to the place.”

“Thanks, Sis.” Meg hung up and curled into the corner awaiting Dani's call.

She was able to catch the first flight to Seattle and it was a short flight. By the time the plane landed and she had exited, Dani was waiting for her. She gave her a hug, but otherwise remained silent. The entire ride home, she said nothing as well. Dani figured she would talk when she was ready and left her alone.

When they got to their apartment, Meg trudged up the stairs, unlocked the door and retreated to her room, closing the door quietly. She didn't want to outright ignore Dani, but she preferred not to think about Tom and, if she was to tell Dani what happened, she would have to face the reality of the situation.

The next two days, Meg came out of her room to use the bathroom, shower and eat, waiting for times when Dani would be at work. She spent the rest of her time lying listlessly on her bed, writing scenarios in her head that included fantasies where she was a world famous artist being interviewed by Katie Couric. She drew, she wrote, anything she could do to distract herself from Tom, because, in the times when her mind did wander, she would feel the gnawing emptiness and would break down, soaking her pillow in tears.

On the fourth day, Dani was off. She knocked on Meg's door and asked if she could come in. “I guess so,” Meg answered. She sounded exhausted. When Dani entered, she found Meg, hair messy, skin pasty, eyes and nose red from crying. “I don't want to talk about him,” Meg said as Dani sat down on her bed.

“Honey,” Dani clucked, “You look like the undead. And you need to talk about him, even though you don't want to.” She could see Meg's eyes begin to fill with moisture and she wrapped her in her arms. “I am so, so sorry,” she said. 

Meg could do nothing but breathe, her heart weighing heavily in her chest. “I couldn't take it,” she blubbered into Dani's shoulder, “I got assaulted by fans and I was overwhelmed and...” her voice trailed off.

As Dani let her go, she asked, “Have you seen Twitter?” When Meg shook her head, she pulled out her phone and showed her the tweets. “Luke, Tom's publicist tweeted out that the engagement was a sham,” she said. Flicking the screen, she showed Meg a photo of Tom lying on the floor with a woman kissing him. Angrily, Dani asked, “Did he cheat on you? Because if he did, I'm gonna kill that Motherfucker...”

“No!” Meg cried defensively. “He didn't. And it wasn't....” She recognized the woman as the one who had pushed her in the melee the day Tom proposed. “That's the crazy bitch that pushed me.”

Dani shrugged. “Makes sense then, that she would go in for the kill when he was down.” She wanted to tell Meg that everything would be alright, that she could live without him, if that was her decision, but, this time, she wasn't so sure. “Have you called Dr. Cramer?”

Meg shook her head. “No.”

“I think you should,” Dani suggested. “Maybe you discontinued your therapy too soon.” She saw Meg take a deep breath, then asked, “Has Tom tried to call you at all?” Another head shake. “Have you tried to call him.”

“I can't,” Meg lamented. “How could I? I broke his heart. I can;t call him at all. I feel like I want to die.”

“You also broke yours.” Dani looked at Meg like she was a wounded animal, sympathetic eyes casting judgment upon her. “Now, I'm going to call Dr. Cramer and you are going to talk with her.”

She dialed the phone and waited for Meg's inevitable protest, but it never came. When Dr. Cramer answered, she said, “Hi, Dr. Cramer, this is Dani, Meg's roommate, and she is in trouble.”

“How badly and how long?” asked the doctor.

Dani glanced over at Meg as she drew herself into the corner and pulled her legs to her chest. “She left Tom four days ago and she's been in her room ever since she got home. She won't talk to me about it and I'm scared she might hurt herself.”

“I'll be right over.”

It took half an hour for Dr. Cramer to get to their apartment. Dani left Meg alone only long enough to answer the door and let her in. “Thank you so much, Doc,” she said. “I'm worried about Meg.”

Dr. Cramer set her jacket down on the couch. “You were right to call me,” she said as she walked towards Meg's room. She reached the doorway and peeked in. “Meg, is it alright for me to come in?” she called.

There was no answer, just a grunt from Meg, still huddled in the corner of her bed. “It's worse than I imagined,” Dr. Cramer said grimly. “Let Meg and I have some time alone.” She closed the door.

They were sequestered two hours before the door opened. Dani was sitting on the sofa, eating a tuna fish sandwich and potato chips when Dr. Cramer ushered Meg out. Her arm was around Meg's shoulders, her demeanor motherly. “Dani,” she said, “I'm taking Meg with me to the hospital.”

Dani hadn't expected that outcome of the doctor's visit. “Is she that bad?” she asked, her heart in her throat.

Dr. Cramer nodded. “She needs some time where there will be no reminders and no distractions and she can be monitored.”

Meg avoided Dani's gaze, choosing to avert her eyes out the window. She took a deep breath and mumbled, “Thank you,” as she was guided out the door.


	15. Chapter 15

“The show must go on,” Tom told himself as he arrived on set. He tried not to think of what had happened, how much turmoil had happened in his personal life. He made the decision to throw himself into his work, like he had before during times of stress, choosing to forget everything except what he was doing at the moment. This also meant that he eschewed any sort of social networking, neglecting his Twitter feed, with the exception of having a PA post a promotional photo for the current project. He chose not to get embroiled in any of the drama that appeared there. His state of mind was too delicate to deal any more with overzealous fans.

Thankfully, the set was closed, so the only people allowed were those involved in the production. He found it odd sitting in the director's chair instead of in front of the camera, but it was a welcome change of pace as he needed to keep an eagle eye on every detail instead of concentrating only on himself. 

Sure that no one there was aware of his personal conflicts, he chose to play a version of himself. He was an actor, after all. He pasted a smile on his face, laughed when he was expected to with his characteristic “Ehehehe” and was as jovial as he could be. Not that he felt happy at all. In reality, he was miserable and it was all failing as an attempt to forget her. Everything reminded him of Meg, even when it had nothing whatsoever to do with her. His heart raced when he saw an extra who had the same hair color, only to feel the crushing disappointment when the woman turned around and it wasn't her. The wind would carry the scent from the late winter blooms of hyacinths and he would take a whiff, convinced that it was the scent of her until she failed to materialize. When another woman on set laughed, his mind interjected Meg's own jovial cadences. 

Eventually, though, his act began to pay off. He was able to concentrate and slowly, Meg's memory began to fade from his mind. He even began to feel hopeful. It all crashed down with Dani's call. He answered, not recognizing the number. “Hello?” He had expected it to be from one of the people involved in the production. There were hundreds of calls he got and he'd grown to expect them.

“Is this Tom?” Dani asked.

“Yes, who is this?” He was confused. Certainly, the person who called his number would know who they were calling. And the voice sounded familiar. “Are you from the set?”

“It's Dani,” she said. “Meg is in the hospital. I thought you should know.”

Tom froze, his blood feeling like it had suddenly turned to ice water in his veins. “Is she alright?” He could barely get the words out as he felt like someone had unleashed a powerful blow to his midsection.

She sighed. “Meg had a breakdown after she left you,” she explained. “I was afraid she would hurt herself, so I called Dr. Cramer and she made the decision to take her in.”

“Oh, God,” Tom cried, his voice breaking. Dani could tell he was close to tears. “Oh, God...”

“What happened between you two?” she asked. “Meg wouldn't tell me.”

Tom took a deep breath. “I barely know, myself,” he answered. “She said she loved me but that she couldn't deal with my fans and the crowd and that she didn't want me to regret her.”

“That sounds like something she would say,” Dani groaned. “You realize it was her anxiety talking, right?”

Tom was silent for a moment. “I figured,” he said softly, “But she was so determined to leave.” His voice began to choke again. “Dani, she broke my heart.”

“She knows she did,” Dani replied. “I told her she broke her own as well.” She left what she really wanted to ask him unsaid, hoping that he would somehow still realize why she had called him.

“I can't come down,” he lamented. “I've got a production schedule and they won't let me delay it.” 

“I know,” she sighed, “I just wanted you to know. I know she still loves you.”

The words twisted in his chest as sure as any blade. “I still love her, too.”

When he hung up with Dani, he wearily trudged to the set and sat down in the chair that bore his name on the back. He leaned back, his elbow on the arm rest, his chin leaned on his hand. His PA walked past him and gave him a queer look. “Are you alright, Mr. Hiddleston?” she asked in a squeaky voice.

Tom shook his head. “Could you please get me Mr. Armstrong, Janine?”

She nodded and scurried off across the set. It was only a matter of minutes before she returned. “Here he is,” she announced as the burly producer followed her.

“Chad,” Tom addressed as he stood up, “May I please have a quick word with you?”

“Sure, Tom.” The producer was nearly as tall as Tom was, but built like a tank, all squared angles and tough as nails. “What's on your mind?”

Tom sighed, “I'm not feeling well today.” He watched to gauge the producer's reaction before he continued. “I was hoping we could cut the schedule for today, if that would be alright.” He had never asked for a schedule delay, not even when he was filming with the flu.

“That is highly uncharacteristic of you, Tom,” Mr. Armstrong said, concerned. “Is everything alright? I'd heard that you had a bit of personal trouble right before filming began.”

“Yeah,” Tom nodded. “It has nothing to do with this,” he lied. “I 'm feeling a bit lightheaded and I'm afraid that, were we to continue for the day that I might completely pass out.”

Mr. Armstrong stood and studied him for a moment. “If you're honestly feeling like that, you should visit the medical tent,” he remarked. “I'll have your associate continue with the shoot while you get checked out.”

“Thank you,” Tom sighed with relief. He left his post as Mr. Armstrong walked away to attend to another matter.

When he reached the medical tent, he was checked by one of the paramedics that ran it and was diagnosed with exhaustion. “I suggest you take it easy for the day, perhaps lying in here for a while,” she smiled. It was a welcome smile.

“I think I'd rather just go back to my room,” Tom replied. 

He recruited another PA to drive him. He'd left the one he had stayed in with Meg, preferring to let a room at a quaint bed and breakfast that was nearer the set. As he made his way in to his room, he waved at the kindly woman who ran the place, then trudged up the stairs into his room, closed the door and collapsed on the bed.

Tom was awakened by the ring of his cell phone. “Hello?” he answered groggily.

“I know you needed a bit of time, but if you don't get your ass to the set today, you're going to be relieved of your duties,” Mr. Armstrong yelled into the phone.

Alarmed, Tom asked, “What time is it?”

“It's 10:00 AM,” Mr. Armstrong answered, “Tuesday.”

“Oh, shit, I am so sorry, sir, I will be there in twenty minutes.” Tom jumped from the bed and peeled off his clothes. He took a quick shower and raced to get dressed and get to set. He had been asleep for two days. It was obviously a needed rest, because he felt energized, ready to take on whatever tasks needed undertaking. He grabbed a cookie from the stand in the entry of the B&B as he passed by it and chose to run to the set rather than call a cab. It took him exactly twenty minutes to arrive.

Mr. Armstrong stood near the director's chair, stolid, arms crossed, face scrunched into a stern scowl. “I expect all my team to be here on time with bells on,” he grumbled.

“I am so sorry,” Tom apologized again. “I didn't even realize I was out that long. The medics told me I needed to rest, so I did.” He didn't want to excuse his actions, yet, he was doing just that. “I'm sorry, it will never happen again.”

Clearing his throat, Mr. Armstrong answered, “It better not.” He smiled at Tom menacingly. “Now, let's on with the show.”

Tom attacked his job with renewed vigor. He more than made up for the delay from his respite and he pushed himself as well as the cast and crew to get the film done in a timely manner. He was a monster on set, not in demeanor, but in action. When there was a question about the script, his response was resolute. Each scene was directed with passion, each instruction given with equal fervor. Yet, he was gentile and beloved of both cast and crew alike for his fairness and creativity at the helm.

There was two weeks of hard work before anyone was given a break. By then, they'd filmed a majority of the scenes, often working until the wee hours of the night, only to get going again before dawn had broken. No one complained. They were all as dedicated to the production as Tom was. By the time they had the break, they all should have been utterly exhausted, but they weren't. When Mr. Armstrong announced the break, he was greeted not by cheers, but by groans. “I've never seen a more dedicated crew,” he commented.

Most of the cast chose to spend the time at a spa resort not far from the set and they invited Tom to join them. He wanted to cordially decline, but thought better of it. They all went to their respective rooms to pack for the spa. He checked himself out of the Bed and Breakfast and waited for the cab he had called.

While he waited, he pulled out his cell phone, checking his texts and messages that had been left by his family. His sisters had left encouraging voicemails, his mum had left one as well. A couple friends had texted him to ask how production was going. He returned all of them, laughing with them as he regaled them with on-set stories. 

By the time he arrived at the spa, checked in and had checked out his room, the party was in full swing. Tom wanted to relax, first and foremost. He changed into a pair of board shorts, a t-shirt and flip flops and made his way to the hot springs. There was nobody else there and the springs were far enough away from the main cabana of the spa that it was fairly quiet. He tiptoed into the water, slowly dipping himself in until he was immersed up to his shoulders. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the stone and took a deep breath. It seemed like ages since he'd felt this calm. Yet, even in the calm, he felt empty. 

There was a small splash as someone else joined him in the spring, silently otherwise. Tom kept his eyes closed, drifting off again, hoping that the other person was only enjoying the water like he was and that they would keep to themselves. His thoughts became dreams and soon they transformed into dreams of Meg, the good times. He often found himself in this dream world, floating with her there, but this time, it seemed so realistic. He could feel her there next to him in the pool, her touch, her lips against his neck.

It became all too real and Tom's eyes flew open. He knew he wasn't alone. His hands reached out and grasped the person who was kissing his neck. “Candace,” he said darkly when he saw who she was.

“Hello, Tommy,” she grinned. “I thought you could use some company.”

He grimaced. “How did you even know I was here?”

“Easy,” she replied. “I made friends with some of the crew and they invited me. Some of those gaffers are awfully friendly.” Candace moved to put her hand on his chest and he moved away. “Tell me you couldn't use a special someone,” she purred, “I know better.” Her eyes dropped, watching his erection floating just under the billow of his board shorts. Before he could react, she reached down and grasped it. “I know what you need.” She glanced back up at him and raised her eyebrow.

Tom pulled her hand away and moved to the other side. “Get off me, you deranged cunt,” he yelled. “You are not a fan, you are a deranged, psycho, stalker, lunatic!”

Candace opened her mouth for a rebuttal, but she caught the movement of the spa security out of the corner of her eye and began crying instead, dousing her eyes with the water from the spring to make them red and tearful. “How could you,” she wailed, “Taking advantage of me like that!”

The guards strode around the corner and came in to view, Luke trailing behind them. “Is this woman bothering you, Mr. Hiddleston?” one of them asked.

Tom nodded as Luke pointed at Candace. “That's her, that's the woman who's been stalking him,” he accused.

Rolling her eyes, Candace huffed, “I have not done anything of the sort. He fondled me while I was relaxing in this spring.”

The other guard grabbed her by the arm and pulled her from the pool. “Miss, you're going to have to come with us. Mr. Windsor already told us about what's happened with you before and the police are waiting in the office for you.” She tried to pull away and shot a desperate glance at Tom, who returned only a look of disdain.

As they left, Luke explained, “I saw her speaking with some of the crew before they left this morning and heard them inviting her here. I was afraid something like this might happen.”

Tom was shaken. “As much as I hate feeling like you are babysitting me,” he sighed, “Perhaps it's for the best. Thank you.”

Luke nodded. “You won't have any more trouble with that one. She'll be charged and detained as long as you are shooting the film.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be the last chapter, but it ran so long, there will be one more.

After a week in the hospital's mental health unit, Meg was relieved from suicide watch. It had become apparent that, despite her proclamation that she'd rather die, she had a fierce will to live. The medication she was prescribed helped her with the depression she had fallen into and she began to associate with the other patients in the ward. Dr. Cramer had relinquished her care to the on-site doctor, Dr. Mark Owings, and, after a couple weeks under his wing, Meg began to flourish.

“The thing is,” she told him at her most recent therapy session, “I'm not sure when I'll ever be ready to function as a member of society.”

Dr. Owings had been filled in on her situation by Dr. Cramer, including her relationship with Tom. By the third week, she had been able to talk about him, but she still hadn't told Dr. Owings everything. “What was different when you were with Tom?” he asked.

She sighed. Speaking about Tom brought back a whole wave of feelings, she knew she still loved him, she missed him, she missed the idea of him, even. “He had an inner strength that I could draw from,” she finally answered. 

“Would you say that you used him as a crutch?” Dr. Owings wondered. “What if you were able to gird yourself to the crowds?”

“I tried that,” she responded wryly. “Dr. Cramer taught me management techniques, but, in the long run, they failed.”

“That's only because you came face to face with your worst fear,” he replied. “You won't ever run in to Jason again.”

“That's what I thought before.” She crossed her arms and leaned her elbows on her knees. When she noticed the concerned look on the doctor's face she sat back, opened her arms and shoved her hands under her legs. “Sorry, I got defensive again.”

He chuckled. “That's perfectly fine,” he nodded, “as long as you recognize that you are shutting people out.” He cleared his throat. “Now, about those techniques. They were immersive therapy?”

She nodded. “Group therapy, and then outside therapy.”

“Well,” he took a deep breath. “You've been here a month now and I'd like to try something different.” She raised a curious eyebrow and he explained. “There is a small faction of us that are staunch believers in the power of suggestion. I believe that you may benefit from hypnotherapy. If we can get the idea of the fear pushed from your mind, you may be able to overcome it.”

“Why do you think it will work on me?” she asked.

“Because, when you were with him, you forgot about being frightened, correct?” She nodded at him. “Well, then, it seems to me that we might be able to get you to forget it through suggestion.”

“I'll give it a try,” she said warily after a moment. “I guess I can't get much worse.”

She began her new therapy the next day with yet another therapist, Dr. DeLong and, during the session, already saw results. Dani visited her after her second week of hypnotherapy and remarked upon how well she seemed to be doing amidst the noise and crowding of the common room. “You seem to be more comfortable around people, now,” she said. During past visits, Meg had been withdrawn, agreeing only on the visits in her own room. Her visitors had been few as well, only Dani and her sister. 

“I'm feeling good,” she smiled. “Dr. DeLong is hopeful that this will benefit me in the long term.”

“Any idea when they'll let you out?” Dani asked, hopefully.

Meg shook her head. “If all goes well with this, I hope soon.” She knew Dani was avoiding asking her what she really wanted to know, so she came out and asked herself. “Have you heard from Tom?”

“Not since I told him you were here,” Dani replied. “He's busy with the movie.”

“Yeah,” Meg sighed. “Any news on that?” She regretted hurting him the way she did. Her mind had not been in the best place and, though she still loved him, she couldn't blame him for being angry. It was for the best, she thought, that he moved on with his life.

Dani thought for a moment before answering. “No news from the set, but you know that psycho fan?” Meg's eyes widened at the mention and she nodded. “Well,” Dani continued, “I guess she assaulted Tom at a spa resort and she was arrested.”

“That's awful,” Meg responded. She began unconsciously twisting at the hem of her hospital-issue shirt. “He is wonderful with his fans. I hope that doesn't ruin it for him.”

Anxious to change the subject, Meg asked, “So, how's it with you and Melanie?” Melanie was the girl that Dani had recently begun seeing. She was beautiful, tall, blond, big breasted and so completely smitten with Dani that she was the one who did the asking.

Dani grinned, “Everything is wonderful.” She began to blush profusely. “In fact, I wanted to ask you if it was alright for her to move in.” They had been seeing each other for a month, but it was obviously more serious than Meg had thought. Then again, she hadn't been there.

“Well, it's not like I can pay my share of the rent right now,” Meg shrugged. “If that's what you want to do.”

“Thanks, sis,” Dani said. “It means a lot to me and I'm sure it will mean a lot to Mel, too.”

After Dani left, Meg retreated to her room. She pulled out the pad of paper they had allowed her and a pencil and began drawing. She wasn't sure what she was sketching at first, but, as the drawing came to fruition, she realized that it looked like Tom. She took a deep breath and put it away. 

When it was time for dinner, she asked one of the nurses if she could make a call. “Is it to one of your doctors?” she asked. Meg shook her head. “Sorry, then, calls are only allowed if it is to one of your doctors.”

“Can you please call Dr. Owings, then?” she asked.

The nurse complied and Dr. Owings arrived a little under an hour later. By then, Meg had gone back to her room and her sketching. He appeared at her door just as she finished a sketch of the waterfront. “You asked to see me?”

Startled, Meg jumped and nearly drew an ugly line across her sketch pad. “Yes,” she said as she composed herself. “I have a request.”

“I'm listening,” Dr. Owings said as he leaned against the door frame.

She took a deep breath. “I think I need to call Tom,” she said as she let the breath out. It felt like it took a huge weight off her chest. “I feel horrible for how I left him,” she explained, “And I want to tell him I'm sorry.”

“I'm impressed,” Dr. Owings replied, nodding his head. “You may be right.”

“May I use your phone?” She was desperate to call him right away before she lost her resolve.

The doctor pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and handed it to her. “I'll be standing right here if you need me,” he said gently.

Meg nodded. She knew Tom's number by heart still and dialed it. As she waited for an answer, she closed her eyes. “He doesn't recognize your number,” she reasoned when it went to voicemail. His voice was clear and resonant, comforting to her as she listened. At the beep, she sighed. “Tom, it's me...” she began, “Listen, I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. I didn't mean to leave you like that and... God, I'm so sorry.” She began to cry, her voice wavering. “I never wanted to hurt you. I love you and that was the last thing from my mind and I'm sorry. I can understand if you never wanted to have anything else to do with me, but I needed to do this as part of my therapy. Goodbye.” 

She hung up the phone and handed it back to Dr. Owings. “That was one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do,” she said tearfully. 

“You were wonderful,” he replied. “I'm confident that we have chosen the right course of therapy. If you continue at this rate, I'd expect to release you in another four weeks.”

*

Tom's phone rang when he was in the middle of directing an intense scene. His pocket vibrated and he pulled the phone out, glanced at the unknown number and shoved it back in. He didn't give the call another thought, focusing on his job instead. The scene wrapped early in the morning and he fell into bed, exhausted, into a deep sleep.

Another week went by before he realized he had a voice mail. He happened upon it by chance. There had been one of the interns who had called to ask a question and, when he had answered, he saw there was a message. His life had been so hectic with the shoot and his calls to anyone so few and far between that he neglected to realize it was there.

He looked at the number it was from and shrugged, still not recognizing anything about it, other than the Seattle area code. Finding a secluded place on set, he dialed his voicemail and listened, his heart stopping when he realized it was Meg. He could tell that she was struggling not to cry, but even the sound of her voice was enough to make him choke up and feel the pang in his heart. While he paid attention to each and every word she had said, the only ones that mattered for him were, “I love you.”

Tom's eyes were wet when he hung up the phone. He clutched it to his chest and leaned back against the wall, a look of relief replacing the anguish. 

It was all he needed to soldier on, those three little words. They brought his resolve tumbling down. He turned his phone back on and had it dial the number, hoping he would get the opportunity to talk with Meg. It rang a few times, then a man answered. “Hello, this is Dr. Owings. How may I help you?”

Tom was rattled for a moment. He hadn't expected a man to answer, yet it made sense that Meg had borrowed her doctor's phone to make the call. Hesitantly, he said, “Hello, sir, my name is Tom Hiddleston. Meg called me from this number?”

“Ahhh, yes,” the doctor replied, “she did, indeed. I have to admit, I really didn't expect you to call back.”

“I didn't get the message until just today,” Tom explained. “Listen, I know I'm not family, but can you tell me how she is doing?”

Dr. Owings chuckled. “Sorry, son, I can't give you any of that information.”

Tom sighed. “Can you at least tell me if,” he gulped, “she's happy?”

“She's getting there.” Dr. Owings had a sympathetic tone to his voice. “I'd love to tell her you called, but I don't want to hamper her progress. You understand, don't you?”

“Yes,” Tom replied quietly. “Thank you.” He hung the phone back up and dialed Dani's number.

“Hey, Tom,” Dani answered right away.

He took a deep breath and made an attempt to sound upbeat. “Hi, Dani...” he began, “Listen, I'm going to be done filming here at the end of the week and then I'll be heading down to L.A. To go over editing. I...” he stumbled over choosing his words. “Do you know when Meg will be out?”

Dani stalled for a moment. “I don't know yet, Tom,” she finally said. “Last time I visited, she mentioned that her doctor said she would be out in a few weeks...”

“But...” he could hear the restraint in her voice.

She let out a breath, like she had been holding it in. “I don't think it's a good idea for you to try to see her just yet.”

“Oh.” He tried not sound so disappointed. “Did you know she called me?”

“She told me,” Dani answered. “It's just that, well, she's sounding happier than she has been since she met you and her new therapy is working and...” she wanted to let him down slowly, “I think seeing you right away would bring it all tumbling down.”

“I understand.” His heart was in his throat. “Well, I won't bother you, anymore. I wish things were different.”

“So do I,” Dani said before she hung up. “You were the best thing to happen to her.”


	17. Chapter 17

“Meg, I think we have made enough progress in your treatment that I believe you will be able to go home at the end of the week,” Dr. Owings smiled. “I wouldn't say you're fully well, but I think you'll be able to live a fairly normal life.”

Elated, Meg exclaimed, “I can't believe it!” She felt like she had been making progress. She had even been able to leave the hospital, supervised of course, to spend the day shopping. “Thank you so much.”

“Well, it has been part of your own due diligence that has made this possible,” he replied. “I don't think I have ever seen someone so determined to get well.”

She shrugged. “I couldn't handle the person I became,” she answered. “I ruined everything,” she whined, drawing her face into a scowl.

“Not especially,” he remarked. “I received a call from Tom a couple weeks ago. He still worries about you.”

Meg's eyes widened. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I wanted to make sure it wouldn't present itself as a setback to you.” He leaned towards her, his hands on his knees. “Meg, as your doctor, your treatment and well-being are my first and foremost concern.”

“I know,” she sighed. 

“However,” he continued, “I believe that, should he decide to be a part of your life, he could be a valuable part of your support system.”

“Is it alright if I call him?” she asked timidly. 

Her heart felt like it was beating furiously in her chest as Dr. Owings nodded and handed her the phone. “Just don't get disappointed if he harbors any negative feelings or rejects you,” he warned. “That's why I'm supervising this call.

She nodded. “If anything happens, you're here to support me,” she breathed.

She dialed Tom's number and waited. By the third ring, she was certain it was going to voicemail once again, but he answered. “Hello, this is Tom.” He sounded happy, his voice still the same velvet timbre that took her breath away.

“Tom,” she squeaked. “Oh, Tom!”

“Meg?” he responded, his voice full of absolute amazement. “I thought I'd never hear your voice again.”

“How are you?” she managed. She restrained herself from letting everything she felt about him in a deluge.

“Well, filming is done and I've been in L.A. With the editors,” he explained. “On Friday, I'm off back home for a while, preparing for my next role.”

“Oh.” She tried not to sound too dejected. “How have you been, you know, personally?”

“Good,” he answered, then paused for a moment, “I went on a couple dates with this girl from accounting. She was nice...” He really wanted to add, “But she wasn't you...”

Meg's heart dropped. She knew she deserved everything she got from him, but she was still not prepared to take whatever it was. This was exactly why Dr. Owings insisted on supervising her. “Is she nice?” she choked.

“She was,” he replied. “Don't think I'm going to see her again. I've got too much on my plate right now.” 

Meg silently contemplated what to say next. She'd never been in a conversation so stunted, so awkward. “I...” she began.

Tom interrupted her. “Listen, Meg,” he gasped, “Did you mean what you said on your message?”

Confused, she asked, “ That I'm sorry?”

“No,” his voice deepened, “That you love me.” He sounded like he was desperately on the verge of tears. “Did you really mean it?”

Meg's cheeks were wet from her own restrained sobbing. She was trying not to let him hear her own anguish, but, with that question, the dam burst. “Yes!” she wept. “Yes, I do still love you.”

He exhaled loudly into the phone. “Oh, God!” he sobbed. “Darling, I never stopped loving you.” He heard a loud thump on Meg's end of the line. “Meg? Meg?” he called.

“So sorry, I dropped the phone!” Meg yelled in the distance. She picked up the phone and covered it with her hand, trying to muffle out her conversation with her doctor, but Tom could hear her excitedly say, “He still loves me!” When she got back on the line, she was calm. “I get released in a week,” she said quietly. “You'll already be in London by then, won't you?”

“Yeah, I've promised my mum that I'd help her with a charity auction and then I've got some prep to do.” He knew he was already disappointing her. 

She took a deep breath. “Where are you filming next?” She didn't even ask what role he was playing.

“Beijing,” he answered. “It's another period piece about the British in China.”

“You'll look handsome in that suit,” she smiled, even though she knew he was beginning to hate being thought of as a period actor. “I've heard China is beautiful.”

“As long as you don't breathe,” he joked. He gave a half-assed chuckle, then got more serious. “I wish I could be there for you when you get out.”

“I know,” she sniffled. “When will I see you again?” That was the moment that she missed him terribly.

“I'm not sure,” he groaned. “Nature of the beast, I suppose. I would hope sooner than later.”

Dr. Owings gave her a signal that she needed to go. “Tom, my doctor is telling me I need to get off the phone,” she said tearfully. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, darling,” he replied softly. “I'll see you on the other side.”

Meg hung up the phone and handed it back to Dr. Owings. “I don't know when I'll see him again,” she lamented. “He's heading back home before I get out.”

“Well,” he answered, “I'm sure you will see him again. Remember, you don't need him as a crutch. You can do this on your own.”

“I can, can't I?” Meg smiled weakly. “I can.”

The rest of her week sped by as she made preparations to leave the hospital. She was allowed out on the grounds and given nearly free reign of all the floors so she could mingle with other patients and hospital staff and she found that she was no longer afraid. She would smile brightly and received warm responses. 

Meg's sister Katie and Dani came to pick her up on Friday. They insisted on meeting and thanking both Dr. Owings and Dr. DeLong, shaking their hands profusely for helping Meg heal. Dani drove her home so she could change and then took her to Katie's for a small homecoming and congratulatory party. They were joined by Melanie and Katie's boyfriend Jake, whom Meg had never met before. He was only slightly taller than Katie with black hair, gentle green eyes and glasses. “He's cute,” Meg had whispered to Katie when they were introduced. Katie just beamed.

Meg had met Melanie before, but she still didn't know her well. “Looks like we're roomies, now,” she joked. The other woman looked surprised.

Dani shot her a look of reproach before wrapping her arms around Melanie's waist. “Meg, listen, about that,” she began. “Melanie and I were thinking we might want to get our own place... somewhere where we can be alone, if you know what I mean?”

The words stung Meg as sure as any bee. “You're moving out?” she gulped. “What am I supposed to do? I can't afford that place on my own.”

Dani shook her head. “It won't be for a couple of months. I'll help you figure something out.”

Meg crossed her arms and furrowed her eyebrows. “Fine way to tell me,” she grumbled.

“I was meaning to discuss it with you later,” Dani explained. “Don't be mad, Sis.”

“I'm not,” Meg sighed. “I guess I just thought we'd be roommates until one of us got married.” A sudden realization passed over her as she looked Dani in the eyes. “Oh!” she exclaimed before clamping her hands over her mouth.

With a chuckle, Dani nodded and kissed Melanie on the cheek. “Yeah,” she grinned.

Meg couldn't help but be happy for them. “Congratulations!” she squealed.

Dani stood more upright. “That's a bit off,” she said austerely. “Now, tomorrow, I've got something special planned for just you and I. Just two best friends out together.”

“What?” Meg asked. “Tell me!”

“You'll just have to see,” Dani shrugged. “But wear good shoes to hike in.”

Meg hoped Dani was taking her somewhere she had never been before and tried to get the location out of her the rest of the night, but Dani wouldn't give her even a clue. “Are you sure I need hiking shoes?” she asked repeatedly. 

Dani's answer was always, “Most definitely.”

The next morning, Dani woke her up fairly early by playing The Beatles' “Good Morning” on her phone loudly in her ear. Normally, she would have grumbled and groused about being rousted at such an ungodly hour, but this was a day full of possibility and surprises. She raced Dani to the shower and won, but was considerate enough to save some hot water.

As Meg got dressed, she shouted, “Do I need to dress warmly?” hoping Dani would hear her over the noise of the shower.

“Dress in layers,” Dani yelled back, wise to Meg's ploy to get a location.

When Dani finally emerged from her room, she saw Meg head to the kitchen. “Don't worry about breakfast, Sis, we'll get it along the way.

Meg nodded. “What's Melanie up to today?” she asked. “She's welcome to come with us if she wants.”

“She's working today,” Dani answered. “She left earlier this morning.”

“Wow, does she work that early often?” Meg was impressed.

Dani chuckled and winked. “Sometimes.”

The two of them packed themselves into Dani's car and set off. They stopped at Beth's for breakfast and Meg scanned the walls for Tom's drawing from when she had taken him there. It was still up, partially hidden by a drawing from a child that had been stapled over it. She pointed it out to Dani with a laugh.

When they were done eating, they settled into Dani's car once again. “How long is the drive?” Meg asked. She hoped that Dani would be taking her to Mount Rainier, since it had been on their list of hikes for years, but they never seemed to get there.

“A couple hours,” Dani answered.

Meg groaned. Rainier was out of the question. “Have I been there before?”

“Yes,” Dani smiled. She was enjoying evading Meg's curiosity. 

“Oh.” Meg knew she wasn't going to get anywhere with her current line of questioning, so she leaned her head against the window and watched as the city sped by. She closed her eyes when they maneuvered onto the freeway and fell asleep to the rumble of the road.

“Wake up, Sleepy Head, we're here!” Dani announced. 

Meg's eyes snapped open and she could hear the crunch of the gravel as they parked. “We're here?” she asked sleepily. “Where's here?”

“Big Four,” Dani answered. “I wanted to start out small, since you've been out of the loop for a while.”

Nodding, Meg agreed. Big Four was only a mile long trail without a huge incline and was rated for beginners. Since she had been in the hospital for so long, her legs were weaker than they'd ever been because she hadn't been able to walk anywhere.

They got out of the car, grabbed the backpacks that Dani had lovingly packed with granola bars and bottled water, used the park restrooms and set out along the trail.

“I wish I'd brought a camera,” Meg sighed as she eyed a blooming flower in a beam of light filtered through the spruce trees.

“Cell phone, silly,” Dani giggled as she pulled her own out.

Meg sheepishly grabbed hers out of her pocket. “Oh, yeah.” She flipped the screen on and saw that she'd missed a text from Tom. “Thinking of you! Love, Crash,” it said. She smiled and turned the camera on. There was no use trying to send him a message because there was no signal along the trail.

They crossed over the river and began their ascent, the gravel-topped trail switching back as it wound up the mountain. Meg took photos of some of the glorious views and forest creatures they saw along the way. It seemed like a longer hike than a mile and she had to stop frequently to rest and take swigs from her water bottle.

Finally, they emerged, coming out of the forest upon a huge rocky field still partially filled with snow. Across from them, the cold majesty of the ice caves. They had passed many fellow hikers on their way in, both coming from and going to the ice caves, so it was no surprise that there were a lot of people exploring down below. “I never get tired of this view,” Meg sighed as they made their way down the embankment. Even though the park service warned against it, she looked forward to standing in the mouth of the cave and letting the blast of freezing air wash over her as she looked at the blue ice inside.

She ran down the hillside, not even bothering to wait for Dani, knowing her friend would be catching up soon. Laughing as she sprinted, she stopped as soon as she was halfway to the cave. There was a couple standing there that looked vaguely familiar. She couldn't tell who they were because their backs were turned, but she felt like she knew them. 

Dani had made it down and came to a stop by her side. “So beautiful,” she smiled.

“I think I know those people,” Meg pointed.

Dani shrugged. “Maybe. Why don't you go say hello?”

In the past, Meg would have avoided the situation altogether, but, now, she stood tall, straightened her shoulders and walked towards the people. As she got closer, she felt with absolute certainty she knew them. She approached with confidence and said, “Excuse me!”

The man turned around first and Meg's heart stopped. Tom was grinning right in front of her. “Darling!” he called, his voice wavering, his eyes on the verge of tears.

“Surprise!” The woman turned around. It was Melanie. She smiled as Dani came to stand next to her.

Meg dropped the bottle of water she was holding, her mouth hung open. “Tom!” she cried as she ran the few feet to him. Within seconds, she was in his arms and he was kissing her passionately. 

“I've missed you so much,” he sobbed into her hair, “So, so much.”

Her cheek was cold from her own happy tears. “I love you! I love you!” she mumbled into his shoulder.

Once he let her go, she gazed into his eyes. “How?” she asked.

Tom chuckled. “I called Dani after I spoke with you on the phone and she arranged it,” he explained. Before Meg had a chance to chide her friend for keeping something so important from her, Tom dropped to his knee. “I know I didn't do this properly the first time and I regret that,” he said as he fumbled with something in his pocket, “But this time, I wanted to do it right.” Meg tried to cover her mouth with her hands, but he grasped her left one and held it, covering the back of it with kisses. “Meg, my Darling, I don't intend on ever losing you again.” He slid a ring on her ring finger. “Marry me?”

“What about needing to go to London and China?” she asked.

He stood up and gazed lovingly at her. “I still need to be there,” he nodded, “But I want you to accompany me, as my wife.”

Meg smiled. “Yes,” she answered. “I don't want to lose you, either.”

Tom wrapped her in his arms again, his lips moving over hers as he whispered, “I love you, my Darling.”

 

~The End~


End file.
